


Decepticon Inmates

by TheBestDayEver



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007), Transformers Generation One, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Attempted Seduction, Cover Up, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dominance, Emotional Roller Coaster, Falling In Love, Fighting, Fluff and Smut, Graphic Description, Hog tying, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, It's got its goods and bads, It's prison, M/M, Megatron is not happy, Not universe specific, Optimus is new here, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Pretending, Prison Sex, Prisoners being prisoners, Protectiveness, Public Kissing, Public showering, Romance, Rough handling, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual comments, Shower Sex, Slow Burn, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Temper Tantrums, The Transformers: Lost Light, Trust Issues, Typical prison violence, Voyeurism, Watching over, cringy, no actual rape happens, prison fights, prison riots, warnings to be safe, what else can I say?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-06-20 23:04:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 42,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15544149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBestDayEver/pseuds/TheBestDayEver
Summary: Rape/noncon warning to be safe. There is no actual Rape, but it's prison and you gotta expect dramatic, crazy comments, so that's that. Transformers inmates!After a big accident, Optimus Prime is sentenced to fifteen stellar cycles in Grindcore prison. It's not a nice place. All the decepticon Inmates are mad over him. And best of yet, he gets to share a cell with the worst mech of all. Lord Megatron.How will he ever cope!?!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is really just a big huge mess of crazy. I really don't know how to warn ya'll. There's all kinds of things that happen, both good and bad, as you can see from the tags. I guess read at your own risk and have fun! 
> 
> So... Sit back, read, enjoy, like, comment, fall asleep or do whatever floats your boat!

"Fifteen stellar cycles at Grindcore prison," Ultra Magnus announced loudly, slamming the end of his hammer down on the ground, "Optimus Prime... You are dismissed."

"What?" Sentinel rose his voice from where he sat, lifting his servos up in ridiculousness, " _Seriously_ , you can't do longer?"

Ultra Magnus' constant glare never ceased as he pointed it all across the room, firmly tracing over Optimus's chained and shackled body. The red and blue prime had a look of disbelief, regret and fear on his face, his blue optics looking in the area of his peds. Two Cybertronian guards stood behind him, holding his arms behind his back and waiting for the signal to take him away. He had tried protesting several times when the trial began, saying that it was truly an accident and that he hadn't meant to endanger anyone, but once the sound of his sentence went out... So did Optimus.

"I believe Fifteen stellar cycles in decepticon confinement is quite enough, Sentinel Prime," Ultra Magnus stated.

Sentinel made a sarcastic sounding laugh and gestured to his missing leg. "Can you not see what he did to me?" he scuffed, "Is the proof right in front of you not enough or are you just being generous?"

"You seem to forget what kind of a place Grindcore is, Sentinel," Ultra Magnus raised one optic brow at the blue prime.

"I know it's where _that_ fragger belongs!" Sentinel barked and pointed at the offending mech on the other side of the room, "He _deserves_ to rust there! He deserves the decepticons wrath, the inhibitor spike and every other kind of torture devices they have in stock."

"Sentinel Prime, that is enough," Ultra Magnus banged his hammer against the ground once more, "I do not want to hear another word out of you, is that clear?"

Sentinel growled and slumped back into his chair, scowling and grumbling, "Yes sir..."

"Now, Optimus Prime," Ultra Magnus and everyone else in the room looked at the mech who shifted in his cuffs and lifted his helm, "I am sentencing you to fifteen stellar cycles in Grindcore imprisonment. There you will bid your services and remain locked up until your time is over."

"Yes sir," Optimus Prime almost whispered, his proud voice diminished and replaced by apprehension and despair. He barely had enough strength left to keep his head lifted, feeling every sting of optics burning holes through the side of his body. Cybertronians now resented him, thought he was bad and were disappointed in him. It made him wish Ultra Magnus would just lay his head down on the table so that he could better smash his helm inside out with his massive hammer.

Ultra Magnus nodded back and looked up at the guards, "Dismissed."

Optimus was jerked back and roughly turned around to start heading towards the exit. But to him, those doors looked more like Unicron hell holes held open by the beast's servos himself. And once he entered, there was no going back. The chains became the last and newest music he got to hear. His spark giving off a ping of self esteem.

The guards were none too gentle as they escorted him out the many doors of Kaon before approaching a large trailer that had big, steel walls stacked around it to keep prisoners locked inside. They used three keys to open the back door before spinning him around and unlatching the chains, leaving the cuffs on. 

"See this pretty little thing?" the taller mech lifted out his servo, presenting a little circular disk with barely noticeable spikes outlining the top part, "We call these little beauties ' _mouth flowers_.'"

As the shorter mech untangled the chains and pulled them off Optimus, he huffed and joined his friend, "Yeah... _Real_ friendly device."

The taller guard twirled the little gadget around in his servo before looking up at Optimus, "And do you know what it's used for?"

Optimus shook his helm.

"Then you don't wanna find out unless you'd like your brains to be spilt all over the place," He flicked the device up into the space and caught it like a quarter, elbowing his friend, "And, of course, we don't mind washin' up before we leave."

"So you just sit tight, little blumpkin, and we'll have us a smooth ride all the way to funsvill," the short guard yanked open the door and pushed Optimus forward.

Optimus stepped up into the trailer and was pushed non too gently on his front. He landed with a grunt and immediately tried pushing himself up and over. He barely got to see the last of daylight before it was shut out when the doors closed. He continued to lightly grunt while setting up, his helm throbbing like shards of glass were spiking his processor. Besides the light of his optics, it was pitch black in here, and he looked around to see if he was sharing this dorm with any guests by any chance. 

Optimus couldn't think straight. Nothing mattered anymore. Ever since the _accident_ , he had tried defending himself but no one would listen. He soon found himself giving up and accepting the given fate although it was wrong.

Setting back against the metal wall as the trailer began moving, Optimus pictured what happened a few days ago.... It had been a long day, he was on his way to the Academy center when he heard something and followed the noise. It led back behind the large building where the storage rooms were, and there Optimus had spotted a suspicious shadow lurking about. A strange beeping grew louder and louder, and Optimus desperately tried mapping out the source and the stranger. He tried asking to see if anyone was there or if they needed any help, and that's when the ped steps went crazy and the beeping got louder.

Optimus had been knocked to his peds, hitting his helm on the large pole before blacking out. When he had woken up, he was in a cell and immediately being questioned and subjected to the accident that occurred at the Academy center. Apparently an explosion happened, several mechs were injured- including the all high and mighty Sentinel Prime- and Optimus was closest to the source. They immediately blamed him for murder, illegal fraud and domestic violence.

Optimus tried explaining what happened, but everyone, mostly Sentinel, was yelling too much. Any time he tried to take up for himself, the mechs would roll their optics and scuff, shaking him and demanding a _confession_  that he did not have. And yet... They forced it out of him.

So now he was here. Right on his way to the place of nightmares.

Optimus had been terrified when Ultra Magnus declared imprisoning him, and he tried begging him otherwise, but the mech made his point. And Optimus was stunned into silence. Grindcore was said to be one of the meanest, nastiest, most foul prisons built on Cybertron. Even the mere quiet, lonely stockades would be better than that place. Primus knew what brought the idea to Magnus' head to send him there... _Sentinel_.

All the worst decepticons go there. And Optimus was sure he heard rumors that the legendary, cruel Lord Megatron was there as well. The chain of command there is not simple nor was it fair. Mechs got away with beating, raping or even killing other mechs most of the time. One little comment could get ones head bashed through the closest wall while the mech mounts them on the other side. Gang bangs and ruthless, disgusting beatings that Optimus had remembered hearing through old stories.

If he could recall right, Skids was once put in there and was... not too bright after he left. The barely passable stories he was able to tell were short yet horrid enough to never want to speak of again. And Optimus prayed to Primus that he did not see Tarn during his little stay.

For the rest of the dark journey, Optimus kept his head rested on top of his knees, arms aching from being so tightly cuffed behind his back. He was fretting. He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to be here. And when the feeling of the trailer coming to a dragging stop happened, Optimus's spark rate began to quicken.

He felt his audios burn and itch as they struggled to listen to the outside world. But his ragid, heavy intakes made it difficult. He had strain on himself. Helm throbbing once again.

Optimus winced when the door was yanked back open and bright white light filled his optics making him squint. "Get out here, blumpkin!" _so that's my new nickname?_ Optimus scooted over to the edge of the trailer. _Well I suppose every inmate has one of their own anyway_.

There were four more guards piled up outside. They all had dark purple and white armor with black chassis'. Prison guards. They looked different from the two colorful guards who escorted him here, but Optimus guessed he'd just have to get use to that. They helped him out of the trailer and pushed him aside.

"We're coming back for you too, bolt head, so you stay put and don't cause any trouble," One of the guards pointed into the trailer before slamming the door shut and bringing the keys back out to lock it.

Oh Primus, Optimus had had company all along? And he didn't know it?

A chill ran down Optimus's spinal strut as the guards grabbed his shoulders and pushed him past the first giant gate of all the endless mazes of bars. He looked around. There was an enormous steel wall holding in all of the prison. It looked practically plasma proof. Hundreds of feet high. Optimus knew that now he'd never be able to see the sun again.

"What's you lookin' at, blumpkin?" one of the guards hissed and pushed on his helm, "Keep going!"

Optimus ignored a self reported message that demanded him to say something to the rude guard. He was on their grounds now. He had to do what they said. Looking up and walking straighter, the bars soon vanished and he found himself waiting alongside the guards for another big, steel door to open.

"Turn around," one of the guards grabbed his wrists and began unlocking the cuffs, leaning in and whispering, "Now we gonna treat ya _real_ nice around here. Like friends, yeah? If you take one step outta' line then we gonna have problems, is that clear?"

"Yes sir," Optimus almost sighed, already getting use to the rough handling. When his arms were free, he slowly let them fall to his sides, resisting the urge to rub the soreness out of them.

"Good blumpkin," The guard patted his shoulder before standing back.

The doors opened revealing the twisted inside barriers and endless walls of bars. Moans, groans, screams and cries rushed out and into Optimus's audios like a ocean wave crash that shook him up. He grimaced and felt his spark beating impossibly faster. He heard a sharp, begging scream that was cut short followed by a loud banging noise and then anonymous shouts and what sounded like metal kicking metal.

On first instinct, Optimus would cover his mouth and turn away, but he couldn't. He just had to stand there and watch and listen and _endure_.

"Onward," The guard who said that they were like friends held onto his shoulder as they began walking into the building. In front of them was a large, filthy hallway full of energon stains and scattered bolts with what looked like... missing denta? 

And when they were noticed, the whole prison started to go quiet. The bars that made the walls on either side of the hallway were being flooded by rushing decepticons who gripped the barriers and stared. The echo of such degrading silence made the air feel unthinkably thick.

Optimus had to physically keep himself from shutting down. His optics were glued to the closed door just a hundred feet away from where he was now standing. Through all the endless rows of red optics, Optimus could see yellow, purple and even _blue_ pairs looking at him. And that alone was enough to rattle his armor.

"Get going," The guard put pressure on his shoulder pad and Optimus found himself walking straight forward once again.

"Oooohhh, Rams, who do you think that is?" A white and black mech laughed, sticking part of his face through the bars while eyeballing the new mech as he began walking by. His optics ran all over his body frame, examining aft, chest plates and lips most importantly.

Through all the other whispers that were beginning to happen, Optimus hesitantly looked over and saw that a whole crowd of decepticons on the other side of the bars were following him. The heaviest lump of his life formed in his throat and nearly choked him. With the way all those optics were looking at him so lustfully and angrily.

"It looks like..." Ramjet met up with Optimus and- did he- was he... _Smelling_ the air? He sniffed a couple of times before lowering his helm and giving Optimus one of the most sickening smirks he had ever seen. "Dinner!"

At once, the entire room began cheering and arms stuck out through the bars like hungry zombicons. Optimus almost threw up. His processor way too overwhelmed. He can't do it! He cannot do it. Ok, that's just too much. The way everyone began to comment and lust over him, hitting and beating each other up just to _look_ at him, had Prime close to shaking.

Even the guards began to hurry.

"Come on, we love little virgin bots, bring em' to us!" someone shouted.

Optimus could feel his cheeks fume. How did they figure _that_ out?

"Yeah, I wanna frag him so hard into the ground his carrier will feel it!"

"Let us have him!"

"I'm gonna smuggle you..."

"You sexy little swag- yeah, you want it don't ya? You want my spike splitting you open so hard you'll choke on it when it comes out the other end!"

Optimus was sure he could call his spark the thunder now. He ex-vented so heavily when they made it into a concealed room through the doors that he began to cough.

"Oh quit that," the guard said and moved over to one of the shelves and grabbed a small container, "They're just a little excited to meet ya."

"You can't blame them there," Another guard said.

Optimus wanted to say that he liked his personal space and respected others. But _that_ \- what he had just encountered - was not capable of agreeing to. He did not want to go back there.

"Lucky for you though, you won't be hanging out with them," the guards straightened Optimus up and grabbed his helm, "No... Mecha like you get nice solitary confinement."

Optimus hummed in confusion. He didn't know what they meant by that or what they were doing to him right now. They just tilted his helm back and inspected his forehead as if they were searching for dirt or something.

"You see this?" a guard held up the container.

Optimus looked down at the little container and noticed that the lid was off showing a light orange surface. He blinked and nodded before looking back up at the guard.

"Permanent paint," the guard said, waving the container back and forth, "Takes a lot of scraping to get off."

Another guard piped in, "Now what we do is we take a little bit of this and paint a strip across your wrist. And that's it. If you try scraping or scratching it off... it's the flower for you, blumpkin."

"Why, if I may ask?" Optimus tried to sound unbothered, simply holding out his wrist for them to take.

"Because that's how we mark all our friends around here," the guard talking was the one making Optimus be still while the others held out his wrist, "It reminds us what kinda mech you are. Like for instance: orange represents _domestic violence act_ , and that's what crime you've committed so you gotta wear it now."

"Other mechs are the same," said the guard who began painting the strip down over Optimus's blue wrist, "Some have the black line, the white line, the purple line, or even all four!"

(Purple- Rape. Orange- Domestic violence. Black- Murder. White- Kidnapping.) 

"But you're lucky cause' you just got one," The guard exclaimed in the mech's face.

Optimus narrowed his optics once they were done painting the small strip against his wrist. He held it up and looked it over. It was a light-dark sort of orange that he had only been familiar with by fire signs, but was still not tasteful enough to permanently want on his wrist. But he knew he had to wear it now that he was here. At least when he gets out he could take it off and not have to worry about it anymore.

"Right this way, blumpkin," The guards held open a door at the back of the room.

Optimus followed them through the door and into another extremely dark hallway with nothing but sealed-shut doors and heavy metal locks. It was silent. Much more quiet than the previous room. Optimus didn't know whether or not to feel relieved or anxious. He shut out the guards constant blabbering about jokes and comments and focused on what was truly important.

His sanity.

"Right here, little missy, is where you'll be staying," the guard tapped on one of the large metal door hatches. All the doors looked the same, but this one in particular looked larger like a duplex or something similar. "Don't worry now... We made sure you'd have some company for your first night in the institute."

The guard stuck a large rod into the lock and turned it downward, shifting the hatches and lifting the knob. Then a second guard came and unlocked the second knob before twisting and opening the door.

"Nope, you ain't gotta worry about being lonesome any longer," they grabbed the prisoner's arms and tossed him into the room, "Goodnight my lovelies. Mwah!"

Optimus turned around in a flash and watched as they shut the door in a instant. Through all the thick layers of steel, he could hardly hear them lock and bolt the door on the other side. Then it was silent again.

Optimus vented hard and remained standing there, facing the door, staring at his peds. He couldn't believe this. Images of all those crazy, reckless decepticons talking to him, whistling at him, reaching out for him like some rare energon treat, played inside his processor like a reek virus. And he couldn't imagine what they would be doing to him _later_.

"Well well..."

Optimus's spark dropped and his body tensed. Oh Primus. How could he have forgotten? He was sharing this room with someone. And that partner must want to... _meet_ him.

Optimus wasn't sure if he could turn around and face the unknown mech or not. His joints locked up to the point it felt like they were frozen and wouldn't move. He let out a calm ventilation and slowly turned around, ready to politely greet his new inmate.

But he was _pushed_ backwards and _slammed_ up against the wall, a large, black servo pinning him from the chest up. Optimus gasped and grunted, instantly reaching up to push the invading servo away when he heard a rather satisfied laugh coming from the large mech in front of him.

"Wha?" Optimus blinked and then froze when he recognized the giant, crushing grey frame right in front of him.

"Optimus Prime," Megatron's voice was all but a deep, dangerous rumble as he pinned the autobot against the wall with his bigger, much more powerful frame, "What a unexpected surprise."

"Release me right this instant, Megatron," Optimus warned, trying to push just the one, single servo away that was crushing his chassis. His spark pounded heavily beneath his casing, and he knew that Megatron could feel it. Fear bubbled up inside him and he tried his hardest not to shake involuntary at the situation.

Megatron got down to optic level with the mech and scowled, threatening to easily crush his neck if he didn’t choose his words wisely. He ignored his outburst and looked down. Using his free servo, he grabbed Optimus's right arm and forcefully yanked it closer to his face. Looking down at his wrist, a wide, evil smirk broke out across his face.

Optimus, who had momentarily stopped struggling, did not like that smirk, and suddenly he was having very horrible, vivid images of what Megatron planned to do to him. He watched, his chest lifting and falling with every stressed intake that failed to calm him down, as the mech turned his smirk to him and began eying him much more passionately than the other inmates had.

It sent a harsh shudder cutting through him.

"I do have a rather strong envy for violence myself," Megatron's smirk deepened as he lifted out his own wrist.

Optimus vented and looked over at it, his optics going wide. Every stripe. Megatron had _all four_ stripes on his wrist which meant that he had done...

"Welcome to Grindcore," Megatron's smile disappeared and he leaned in closer to Optimus's audio, whispering, "My new inmate."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you my lovely commenters! You have made this chapter officially possible and I thank you very much!
> 
> Here's the next chapter so...
> 
> Sit back, read, enjoy, like, comment, fall asleep or do whatever floats your boat!

"So tell me..." Megatron kept his face right beside the autobot’s audios while keeping him pinned with his mass and piercing frame, smirking. He held his little servo with in his own large one, rubbing surprisingly gentle circles on top of the striped wrist. "What violent act could an autobot such as you commit to deserve time in Grindcore?"

Optimus couldn't really struggle or try to push Megatron away anymore because he was too stuck and didn't want to risk hurting himself in the process. He was pressed entirely into the wall, Megatron's body drinking in his own and almost swallowing. Yet still, in the absolute perplexity of the situation, Optimus remained somewhat calm and still, trying to think of a way out of this.

He curled the fingers in Megatron's servo into a fist to keep from trembling as that dangerous thumb continued to stroke his wrist. He knew that at any moment the decepticon could turn and crumble his wrist into a ugly finger dented bar of broken metal and spare parts. And although he didn't know why he hadn't done so already, Optimus wasn't giving his guard up.

"I'm here on judgment for my crime on blowing up the Academy Center, ruthlessly damaging Sentinel Prime and endangering several others," Optimus sputtered with distaste, giving his body a light squirm before tensing back up, keeping his helm tilted as far back away from the decepticon as possible.

Megatron's simple and seemingly harmless ministration came to a abrupt stop, his gears creaking in stillness. He still held Optimus's fist, thinking through what he had just heard for a few kliks.

And those kliks grew into minutes.

Optimus wondered if or not Megatron was merely taking time to plan his nightmarish punishment on him. That's why he was here right? To be punished and set into his supposedly 'rightful' place. That was the only logical reason Prime could think of to be thrown in here with such a mech. The guards toss him in here for a while, let Lord Megatron rough him up and then take him back out either as a offline body or a mangled soul.

The thought of Megatron hurting him made Optimus close his optics in shame, sadness and misery. He didn't want to be hurt, he didn't want to be punished. He didn't deserve it. And it felt like everyone hated him if they truly had sent him here and locked him up with Megatron- of all mechs.

And finally the vine snapped and Megatron regained his senses, pulling his helm back slightly to look the autobot in the optic. "You did _that_?" he asked, emotion that of test and disbelief, optic brow raised highly.

Optimus opened his optics, desperately wanting to flinch but holding completely still anyway. He looked into Megatron's own burrowing red slits before his lower lip curled and he gazed away, helm lowered. "Yes," he muttered as if the words were vomit.

"You're lying," Megatron's voice suddenly twisted furiously and he gripped the small autobot by the shoulders and pulled him closer, nearly pressing their face plates together, "You did no such thing."

Optimus appeared taken back and dully shocked, his shoulders trying to tense away from the rough, demanding hold. It was like Megatron didn't want to believe that he was a cold, cruel, attempted murderer. Optimus's mouth opened and closed a few times, unsure of what to say.

"No..." He gave up and pursed his lip in discontent, "I didn't. And I have made several attempts to prove my objection adequate in its own rising effect, but it had yet to prove anything... And I was sentenced here."

Megatron let Optimus go and took a couple steps back like he had just found out that he had cybonic plague. If the look on his face was anything to go by, it might have seemed like Megatron just learned that Optimus was a femme. But yet it was all neutral. He was simply... Shocked and confused.

Optimus gasped at the release and quickly rubbed at his chest and neck, feeling terribly sore and stiff.

"You don't belong here," Megatron said, his voice full of pity, anger and disgust, "Perhaps in the stockades or dungeons, but not in Grindcore prison. What fool decided it fit to send you here?"

Geez... Optimus grimaced. Was this mech gonna beat him up for being in a place he was not so thrilled about going himself? "Ultra Magnus sent me..." Optimus looked away once again, shoulders lifting as he admitted, "Sentinel Prime requested it."

"Then they are both more witless than I had previously assumed," Megatron nearly spat, his tone maddening and full of spite. He clenched his fists and turned his side to the autobot and lowered his voice, "A violation like this- if _even_ passable as a violation- does not deserve such atrocities given."

"Are you..." Optimus lifted his servos out slightly, his optics squinted with a twinge of dumbstruck twitching, "Implying that you believe me?"

In his outrage, Megatron looked at Optimus with risen chassis and optical flares of hatred. He glared at him and said lowly, "No. However, I do not agree with the given terms. Treatment from me are assigned to decepticons who have crossed the boundaries.... You are not only autobot, but you have hardly crossed those boundaries as it is."

The silence that then filled the deathly room was quite demanding and weightful. It felt like just the space alone was crushing Optimus who was clueless as to what to say next. He looked at Megatron, looked right into his red optics like he was daring him to just make a move.

But Megatron didn't.

Optimus wanted to ask if he planned on doing anything at all, so he would know when to brace for the pain. But Megatron only turned his back to him and spoke in that gear rattling tone.

"This room has only one berth designed for my own benefits, but it can hold two if needed," Megatron explained looking down upon the metal slab.

Optimus peeked over his side and saw that yes, half the tiny room was just a four ped high risen berth with barely noticeable padding. It fit in with the floor and walls making a solid formation. Through the flickering, dull lighting, Optimus saw a metal bench sticking out of the wall to his right and that was it. Besides him and the dangerous decepticon, there was nothing else in the room.

And he was not sleeping with Megatron. Nope. No way. He'd rather sleep with predacons.

"But do not get too comfortable," Megatron whipped around and grabbed Optimus, yanking him closer and baring down upon him with a viscous glare, "If you so much as think you can out stand me, I will not hesitate to break you."

Optimus pushed against Megatron's massive chest plate, trying to get away when he felt a servo rub down the back of his helm. _Gently_. The orderly grip on his arm stopped and that servo went to teasing his chin, making him look up. Right into those slanted, red flares. Optimus could not have stopped the shiver his frame demanded he make.

What was going on?

"You're fortunate that I spare myself the trouble of having to _work_ this night," Megatron stroked Optimus's chin with his thumb, other servo reaching up to brush at his cute audio fin. He smirked at the half second look of surprise he caught the autobot expressing before retrieving his servo and seizing his wrist once more. "But in other terms... I wouldn't enjoy myself either."

Keeping from panting like a dying construction was physically hurting Optimus who also tried not to shake with fear or struggle with mild discomfort. He didn't like how Megatron handled him, always making him guess and then surprising him at the end. His voice was so questionable. Optimus couldn't tell what emotions he spoke in besides deep, rumbling anger with growls for warnings.

And then Megatron let him go all at once, humming and turning around as if nothing had happened. Optimus was left in his bodily hidden flustered state, his audio tingling along with his wrist and anything else that the ruthless decepticon had touched. It had seemed as if Megatron's touches were to inflict a mound of trust inside him, suggesting comfort or reassurance just so that he could backfire and brutally damage him later; that was a real decepticon trick.

Optimus wanted nothing to do with it.

"When you arrived did the any of the other inmates call you 'jackpot, dinner' or 'newbie' by any chance?" Megatron asked randomly, setting on the edge of the berth and scanning the prime up and down with his optics.

Optimus tried not to blush remembering his touchless encounterments with all the other inmates. It had been... _disturbing_ to say the least. And Optimus was suspicious about why Megatron would want to know such a thing.

"And how, if I may ask, is that any of _your_ right to know?" he asked.

Megatron gave him a look. "You're _my_ inmate now," he confirmed and leaned forward, bracing his servos on the edge of the berth to give the point that he was big, fierce, powerful and could attack the autobot at any moment, "It will always be my right to know. And if you do not tell me... then I will find out myself."

Optimus internally screamed, fighting back the severe urge to bite himself on the lip or servo or digits. He was both frustrated and afraid, not wanting to answer such an embarrassing question. "One of the inmates I remember said something about me smelling like... dinner," he said in a flat, unhappy tone.

"So you're still sealed," Megatron's amused rumble was beyond encouraging as he eyed Optimus again, smirking devilishly to himself.

Optimus felt a knot inside his tank as imagination brought to his processor a very horrible visual. To keep from showing the heavy distress that followed, he asked, "How did they figure out such private information?"

Megatron chuckled, his smile spreading as he looked Optimus in the optics, "Most inmates love a new frag toy and have memorized the smell of fresh seals masterly. If you haven't been touched then they can sense it and it drives them _mad_... Plus, you are an autobot."

"And what does being an autobot have anything to do with it?" Optimus finally frowned in disgust, cheeks fuming.

"Everything," Megatron's voice was hinted with lust and... something else, "Not only are you smaller in size-which equals a tighter fit, you are designed in such a way that is very alluring to us decepticons."

Optimus felt like the color pink. So he was being prepped as the dinner plate in which all inmates wanted to eat out and stick their filthy spikes in, huh? Lovely. He couldn't wait to get out there and show himself off unless... Megatron decided to get him first.

Optimus kept from shuddering by presenting a hateful glare, "Don't get any ideas, Megatron."

The mech snorted and rolled his optics while settling himself comfortably on the berth. "Believe me," he scooted back against the wall, using one arm to brace his helm as a pillow while the other laid at his side, "I intend to."

Even though that was far from what Optimus wanted to hear, he felt himself relax slightly. Noting that Megatron actually left a lot of space left for him to recharge, he refused the offer and moved around the bench. From there, he leaned back against the wall and sank down to the cold, lonely floor, holding his face in his servos.

Now what was he supposed to do? He couldn't recharge with a murderous beast in the same room as him. That was just suicide. But what does it matter anyway? He was stuck here now. Decepticon Inmates were going to be trying to hump him, beat him, frag him and all kinds of other ridiculous things. He was dinner. He was probably going to be wiped clean of his pride and sanity the day he's let out of this room- if he hadn't already lost it in here with Megatron first.

Speaking of whom. Optimus removed his servos and looked over at the decepticon warlord, wondering if he was really in recharge or not. Other processor blogging thoughts danced all throughout his head as he questioned why Megatron hadn't so much as scratched him. And why did he get so upset about the Academy Center deal? Did he not believe it? It would make since if he wasn't currently hurting Optimus...

But who knew what would be happening later.

Optimus looked down and sighed. Fifteen stellar cycles in this place. _Wow_. Could things get any worse for him?

* * *

"Hey you!"

Optimus lifted his helm in a flash, hitting it on the edge of the bench and grunting. In the sudden brightness that filled the room, he squinted his tired optics and looked up, holding his helm and focusing his optics.

"Nice to see ya, little blumpkin," a familiar guard from yesterday stood before him, leaning against the door with the keys in one servo and a medical kit in the other, "Enjoy your company?"

Optimus gave him a stoic look and raised one optical brow. Was that a trick question? Of course he didn't enjoy it! Who could possibly enjoy a night with the Tyrant who stinks a lot?

The guard studied him, looking over his plating and growing a seriously confused face. "Stand up," he ordered and stood back.

Optimus obliged, putting his servo on the bench and using it for leverage as he stood. On his way, a few sore gears and circuits popped and his neck ached. He sighed tiredly and went to rub his helm, remembering that he had slept on the floor for Primus knew how long.

"Turn around," the guard twirled his digit, thoroughly looking Optimus over with steady optics.

Optimus did, thinking that they were going to put stasis cuffs on him or something, but was surprised to feel nothing. He heard a hum and looked over. Megatron was still dead in recharge on the berth, laying on the same side with the same flat, angry look on his secluded face.

" _Alright_ ," the guard said, his voice stretched like he thought Optimus was hiding something, "Come with us. It's time to give ya your work schedule."

Optimus turned back around and watched as the guard lifted the medical case out for one of the other guards to take before nodding and giving him another demented stare. Optimus didn't understand what all the fuss was about, but when he was able to step forward and look outside of the door, he got an idea.

There were a handful of guards walking away followed by what looked to be two medics. They peeked back at him, leaning in and whispering to each other before dissappearing around a corner.

"Move it or lose it, blumpkin, I don't got all day," The guard snapped and pushed on his back.

Optimus stumbled forward and silently cursed the guards rude behavior. He bit his glossa, leaving dents as he straightened himself. Another guard in front of him nodded and signaled him to follow. From behind, Optimus could hear the other guard shutting and locking the door.

"We got something special in mind for you," the guard in front of him snickered.

The guard from behind caught up and laughed in a very unattractive way, "Ha! Special ain't even close to it. What we have is practically _redeeming_ for first timers like you."

"Can't throw ya on the courtyard yet, can we, blumpkin?" the front guard snorted.

Optimus frowned, not knowing where on Cybertron they were taking him. But he had to admit, them mentioning not going to the courtyard eased a wild, overbearing tension inside his body. So in some way, his sanity was safe... for now.

As they walked through numerous steel halls and out a back door, Optimus had ignored all their endless bickering and comments on the way. The two guards were rude, immature and inappropriate. A very tasteless manner. Optimus wanted to lecture them that even though he was a prisoner that does not mean that they can complain about how easily bent over he could be for all the other inmates to frag him silly while they sat back and watched.

When they made it out the door, Optimus was immediately greeted by those large steel fences and walls. The suns were boiling hot, now setting directly over the circular barred prison. Things were noticeably burning out here. Water puddles, oil spills, energon and even mechs themselves. Looking outward toward the back wall, Optimus saw what looked to be grey crystals growing through the heavy steel wall. Inmates were shackled together, each one lined in front of the large growing rock and continuously hitting the crystals with what looked like large rods with spiked hammers at the top.

The guards pushed him forward, out into the beating hot sun where he walked through all the fence mazes, constantly being eyed by armed guards. The steel below his peds was rippling with every hit or impact happening from all around the prison. He almost cringed, hearing the shouts and groans coming from the line of mechs working on smashing the crystals away. There were ten inmates, each one too focused and groaning with static pain to pay any attention to him approaching- thank Primus.

When the guards stopped him nearby the others, they looked down at him and smirked. "See that right there?" they pointed at the top level of crystals, "We call that 'GC- grey crystal.' It's an endlessly growing organism that we have yet to destroy- mostly because we don't want to."

A different guard from behind walked around and held out one of those hammer rods, "And what you'll be doing is crushing those GCs with this little work of art. We'll shackle you to the other inmates, give ya a few hours and if ya make it without collapsing... Free showering."

Well that sounds so  _encouraging_. Optimus was convinced- not. He took the extremely heavy hammer and lifted it against his chassis before getting a good hold of it.

"And you better watch yourself, Blumpkin," one of the guards said in a strict tone, "Don't think that just because your given privilege to handle a tool means that you can just go swinging it around like a weapon now."

"That's not only more prison time and the inhibitor spike... That's us tying you down in the courtyard- free to all the other inmates to have fun with," the strictest guard explained.

"And we can't help ya after that."

"If one of them decides to spike your mouth, it'll set the flower off and... Well, I think you know," the guards turned him around and began leading him to an empty place in the line.

"I understand," Optimus had said, but through all the ruckus, he wasn’t sure if they heard him or not.

Set between a blue decepticon and a purple one, Optimus looked at them both once while the guards put shackles around his peds. The two cons' gave him a brief glance before quickly returning back to their work, not once daring to risk getting switched for stopping for even one second. They were panting, condensation dripping from their bodies and causing thick clouds of steam to rise off into the atmosphere. Determined, they hit at the crystals which were crumbling apart at their peds after each hit they took.

Once the guards got him shackled, they waved him off, "Times time now, blumpkin, get going. Chop chop."

Optimus, biting himself again, shifted the hammer in his servos and lifted it back before swinging it forward. The dark grey crystals reflected the sunlight perfectly causing momentarily blindness, but thankfully, he hit right on strike. A large chunk of crystals shattered and fell apart at his peds. It felt like victory until Optimus looked back up and saw that more GC was growing rather quickly back in the old crystals place.

Panicking, Optimus threw his hammer back forward, crackling the next chunk but more GC quickly began to grow back. Understanding the problem, Optimus continued to lift his hammer, swinging it forward, breaking the crystal, watching it grow back, panting and repeating.

His own crashing sounds matched all the other inmates working around him, and it didn't take long for him to match their own stance.

In about an hour of endlessly swinging a hammer against crystals only to watch more grow back, Optimus was beginning to tire. The sun tore through his back, arms, helm and sides, burning him. Condensation began to drip off along with energon from his palms. The metal rod cut into his servos causing him to lightly bleed and making the hammer slippery. Time and again he would switch sides but that mattered very little.

Optimus's body was tired and sore, steaming with condensation and feeling as if it were on fire. His processor shrieked, his mouth was dry, his jaw was aching and his peds were wanting to tremble. His legs felt heavy, his chest wanting to heave. Every swing of that hammer set him off a different ledge of exhaustion, pain, anger and irritation. In his processor he screamed, _"I don't deserve this!"_

Soon, after another hour, Optimus's mouth was leaking energon from where he bit himself too hard, his spark throbbing and begging for him to stop. But he couldn't. Fire and resolution pulsed through him, making him grunt and growl while continuing his worthless hammering.

A loud and painful coughing filled the space, and quickly, one by one, the inmates all came to an abrupt halt to look to their left.

A red and green decepticon was on his knees, coughing up energon and clawing at his throat. Wheezing screams escaped between each rugged cough and sputter, his digits digging so hard into his neck that it bled. He blinked, twitching and jerking as if having a seizure. Steam blew off him in furious amounts, his hammer lay abandoned beside him.

Optimus's first instinct was to help, to provide and comfort, but he knew the rules. Like everyone else, he had to stay put and only watch. Need to help felt as heavy as two hundred anchors inside his processor, and he drug through the barriers. Chaining himself. He couldn't help, not even when the mech did choke and collapse on his back.

"Hey, whatta' ya'll think you're doing?" a guard barked loudly, switching some of the inmates with an electrical rope, "Get back to work!"

Optimus had hissed when the rope whipped across his upper back, sending a painful overload crashing through his systems, alighting pain circuits and nearly paralyzing him. He toughened it out though, and went back to hammering away the crystals.

More agonizing, miserable, pain splitting hours seemed to pass. When one sun went down it offered a short break before another came alive. Two more decepticons crashed and were taken away, replaced by new ones and the hammering continued.

Optimus wasn't sure how he was still doing it but he was. He thought the worst part was the hammering in the sun with no break but it wasn't. _No_... The worst part was the sweepers.

Decepticon Inmates who came in every thirty minutes to sweep away all the collected shards of crystals, would stop and eye the helpless, vulnerable workers. As they got closer, sweeping around their peds or behind them, they would use a moment to their advantage and grab their afts.

Optimus had been molested ten times now. Servos had touched his chassis, sides, thighs and aft. Whispers and promises had been made to him, his spark going bizarre. The worst experience yet was when one of the sweepers stopped behind him and leaned in, licking his jaw line tenderly before whispering, "So sweet. I can't wait to make you really blumpkin."

Optimus had nearly punched the mech, but instead he just simply shook him off and said that he was working. The inmate only laughed at him before moving on to the next poor soul in line. What made Optimus even more sick was that the worker beside him had began to willingly make out with the sweeper before being caught a minute later.

Purging. Optimus felt like _purging_. And he did.

Stopping for a moment, Optimus threw up all over the ground, his energon splattering onto the dusty, condensation sprinkled ground. He coughed and shook, venting hard to calm himself down before picking back up his hammer and stumbling. His tank churned, empty and wanting to be fueled yet he felt so sick. His helm spun and his peripheral vision blurred.

For only half an hour more he worked until suddenly guards came up from behind and grabbed his shoulders.

"Alright, blumpkin, you've done enough for today," one of them said while unlocking the shackles.

The other one patted his back, "Yup. Now ya get free tickets to a nice long shower in a couple days."

Optimus slurred, barely able to register the words spoken. He shook his helm, servos dry with energon and cracked, arms sore and body exhausted. He was absolutely drained. All his energy was totally spent, gone, and vanished. He could hardly stand straight.

"Think ya can make it, missy?" the guard asked.

"Yes," Optimus pulled himself together, clenching his fists into tired balls and nodding. If they were going back to the room then he would cooperate. Just as long as he could get some rest and refuel.

It didn't take long to get back. Optimus couldn't really remember how he made it through all those hallways but he did. He hadn't a clue what the guards had said to him either. All he could think about was _rest_.

"Alright, Blumpkin, in ya go," the guards opened the steel door and carefully pushed him in so that he wouldn't fall, "You be good now. You got courtyard tomorrow and ya don't wanna be too exhausted for _that_ , now would ya?"

Optimus shook his helm and blinked open sluggish optics when the door closed. The room looked completely the same except Megatron was recharging on his back now, taking up most of the berth.

Oh _SCREW_ it!

Optimus fell to the floor with a rather unflattering clank and slid against the wall. Lying down on his side, he crashed into recharge faster and harder than a spaceship could crash into a planet. It did not matter if Megatron wanted to eat him, molest him, kill him or beat him. He was going to lie there and take it through his recharge.

After while though, movement had woken Optimus for a very faint moment and his optics flickered open. Barely able to see, he noticed that he wasn’t on the floor anymore and could feel deep vibrations against his back.

Too exhausted to really feel alarmed, Optimus only allowed the cushion of the berth and vibrating wall from behind to comfort him and he soon fell back into recharge.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything you need to be warned about is in the tags so I'm not gonna spoil anything in my notes. 
> 
> So... Sit back, read, enjoy, like, comment, fall asleep or do whatever floats your boat!

Tiredness. That's all he could remember feeling. Tiredness and pain. His whole frame had been on fire with several various types of agony coming from different areas all over his body. And all he could recall was crashing right into recharge the moment the door had closed and he was free to do what he wanted.

Optics groggy and vision blurred, Optimus slowly began to online. He was sore. Very sore. His palms itched and stung, his legs felt like dead weights and his arms creaked at the shoulder joints. His optical field felt heavy, demanding more recharge, but his tank clicked with needing attention for fuel.

Finally opening his optics enough to see the room, Optimus groaned and blinked the rest of the visual static away before moving his arms. He pushed himself up with a tired grunt, realizing just how sore and tired he was but not nearly as bad as he had felt yesterday. The well needed rest he got seemed to have calmed plenty of aggravated and stressed circuitry in his body.

Coming into a slight setting position, Optimus reached up and grabbed his helm before completely concentrating his optics. The room was a little bit darker and the temperature was somewhat cooler, but setting on the bench, Optimus saw a light blue glowing cube. Energon. Oh, how he needed that.

But what if it was Megatrons?

Optimus looked behind him and then noticed that Megatron was gone, and he was, _somehow_ , laying on the berth. Letting out a light gasp, Optimus sat up quickly and tried remembering the events of the other day.

Let's see... He returned back to their room exhausted, saw Megatron taking up most of the berth and decided to just forget it and ended up collapsing on the floor, but... That was it. He didn't remember anything else. So how had he gotten on the berth? Had he noticed that Megatron had left at some point and decided to climb on? Or had Megatron actually moved him?

Horrified at the thought of that murderous lunatic touching him while he was in recharge, Optimus began to scramble for answers and positive thoughts. Maybe he had just been in the way when he was on the floor and the _guards_ moved him? Yeah- yeah! That's it. That's what happened. He was in the way and the guards moved him. No Megatron touching him at all.

But Optimus still fretted. He reached up and rubbed his face, feeling for any dents or scratches, but felt none. Going up, he used both his servos to check his audio fins and felt relieved that they were still intact and okay. Then he looked down at the rest of his body. Spark chamber- okay. Legs- assembled. Wrists- not crumbled. And interface panel... Closed and untouched.

Thank Primus.

Optimus rested back against the steel wall and vented out. His assumption must be true. The relief washed over him like acid rain and he soon gathered his broken thoughts and looked over. The energon cube was still glistening with its own unique brightness and Optimus felt as if it were personally singing to him.

Standing up and stumbling for balance, Optimus braced himself on the wall, releasing a few soft grunts as he went. Clenching his denta, he made it to the bench, picked up the energon cube and sat down, ventilations calm and easy. He waited a minute to get comfortable, smacking his glossa around in his dry, sore mouth. Yesterday, he had bitten through his bottom lip, his cheeks and glossa, and the majorly dry weather had caused his throat to burn so everything was remotely sore.

Lifting the cube, Optimus licked his lips and brought the energy to his mouth. Too eager and exhausted for fuel, Optimus failed to realize that the energon stains on his cheeks, chin and neck were gone along with the stains that had been going down his chest and tank. There was the tiniest indentation on his antenna that he had not noticed, and it didn't matter.

Optimus nearly slumped into the bench as he sucked down on one edge of the cube, draining the contents. The energon traveled down into his tank and lit up all his inner networking. Fuel lines came to life and pulsed, his processor making a few rebooting sounds before refreshing all that had been miraculously spent.

It didn't take but one minute and Optimus was setting down the empty cube and leaning back against the wall. His servos conjoined in his lap and he frowned, going back to thinking about his misfortune.

 _Fifteen stellar cycles in Grindcore prison._ The words played repeatedly inside his helm.

That was six thousand days he'd have to strive through to keep his sanity in check. Six thousand days he'd have to stay here all alone and yet surrounded by decepticon Inmates who wanted to violate and neglect him. Six thousand days of low fuel, endless working and rough handling.

Optimus didn't know how on Cybertron he was going to take it all.

Looking up when a loud creaking noise happened, Optimus watched as the door opened and the same guard from yesterday came walking in. This time he looked aggravated, unconvinced- still confused. Optimus only blinked in response to his silent questioning.

"Up," he ordered.

Optimus stood, making another light grunt but feeling much better than before. He faced the guard, arms hanging by his sides casually as he waited to do whatever the heck they wanted.

Optimus standing up was all it took and the guard gripped the edge of the door and looked at the rest of the group. Faintly, Optimus could hear him say, "He's still stable. You can go."

Then he was looking right back at the autobot prisoner with a snickering scowl set upon his face. "Having fun, Blumpkin?" he asked, voice sarcastic.

Optimus really disliked that tone. "I wouldn't necessarily call it ' _fun_ ,'" he said, one optic squinting.

"Sooner or later ya will," the guard pulled open the door and gestured for the autobot to walk through, "Today's a special day for you."

As Optimus followed protocol and stepped out into the hall, he looked down at all the open cells and felt his energon stop flowing. Every door was open, guards were leading other inmates out and down the hall. Oh no...

"Courtyard," One of the guards nodded and smiled pervertedly, "Best place to make friends in Grindcore."

The guard behind him came stomping up, snorting, "Everyday we'll take ya out there and you'll get to introduce yourself to all the other screw-ups." 

Optimus wanted to curl himself up on the ground and suckle his thumb. Seriously? Like really? _Everyday_ he'd have courtyard? "For how long?" he questioned as they began walking onward.

"Same amount as your work schedule," the guard in front of him said.

Optimus restrained himself from saying something smart mouthed and pouty- that he did not want to go out in public with a bunch of horny decepticon Inmates for five hours. The invisible chain he had locked to the giant wrecking ball behind him to manage his major distress twisted in its own silent outbursts, and Optimus wasn't sure how much longer he could keep from breaking. He's only been here two days and he was already fed up with the rude behavior and absolute unfairness.

Trying to shut down his audios, Optimus managed to keep his helm up until they made it to the mess hall and his optics widened to the size of canis majoris. Energon _everywhere_. Tables tipped over and waste bins toppled. Although the room was now mostly empty, Optimus could still see a few inmates walking around cleaning up the wide spread mess, cursing and shouting.

The guards made some snooty comments and pushed him on. They walked through the mess hall, Optimus receiving focused stares, little clicks and sexy whistles. The inmates stopped working and checked him out like he was some fine energon treat that they wanted to eat out all night.

"Hey there, sexy," Optimus's face almost lost its emotionless facade, "You sure do have a nice aft... One with my name written all over it."

"Oh, shut up, Helex!"

"Yeah, we all know you're too small to frag, so why don't you both just leave it all to me?"

"No! I wanna frag him!"

"You ain't got the skill."

"Aww, he's leaving!"

Optimus wasn't sure how he was pulling off such an unwavering face the whole time, but the taste of energon in his mouth might have explained how. He tried to keep his body as calm and as straight forward as possible, but the outside world did good to twist and wind him up.

They were just about to reach the main doors to the mess hall which led to the courtyard when Optimus heard one of the inmates behind holler,

"When I'm finished here, I'm coming for you, sexy."

Rage, agitation, disgust, humiliation, fear and demise. That's all Optimus could feel. And Primus, did it feel strong. He almost wanted to bash his head in on the next door frame until his processor turned inside out and he offlined permanently. Then all the inmates could frag his perfectly untouched, dead aft and he wouldn't have to worry about a thing! Right?

"Looks like you're in for some nice, long company," The guard who held the door open smirked.

"If they get too rough, just holler and they'll stop," the other one informed.

Optimus hesitated greatly, not wanting to go outside those doors. Just looking out, he could see dog piles, fights, fragging and limp bodies laying around. His spark gave him constant alerts, telling him to turn around and demand justice, but he just... Couldn't. He couldn't do anything and it was pissing him off.

"Whatta' ya waitin' for, little Blumpkin?" one of the guards gave him a teasing look, gesturing to the outside world, "It's just a little social time, ain't nothin' bad gonna happen to ya."

"You just gotta give em' a chance to get to know ya, that's all," the other guard patted his back in mock comfort.

Optimus still could not force himself to move. He was too afraid of stepping out there and being immediately pounced. Social his aft. That _did not_ look like a friendly field of mechs socializing to him.

"I'll help him," someone suddenly came in from behind, grabbing Optimus by the shoulder and smiling, "Sucker looks like he could use a nice friend."

The guards looked at each other before looking at Optimus, acting as if they were thinking it over. "And you'll be nice, Whirl?" they asked with big smirks and raised optic brows.

"Aren't I always?" Whirl's optic curved upward representing an innocent smile.

Optimus internally and externally shook. The whites in his optics practically dilated until, up close, he would look like a soulless demon. He hadn't really looked at the multi-blue mech beside him and he did not care to. He knew what he wanted. Hell, it was obvious.

"Alright..." The guards humphed and walked away.

Optimus boiled.

"Well that was nice of them, don't you think?" Whirl looked at Optimus and chirped.

Optimus looked at him, no smile, no emotion, no response.

The mech released his shoulder from his pincher and waved. "Shy? I totally get it. Newbies are always shy around here," he said happily as if... welcoming.

"Please do not call me that," Optimus closed his optics in a moment of prayer. Hoping that this mech meant no harm as he seemed to lack any harmful intentions so far.

"Well if you have a name, then sure!" Whirl exclaimed, lifting his servos out joyfully.

Optimus gave him a small bit of questionable emotion before relaxing his throat and answering, "Optimus."

"'Optimus,' hmm? So that's what I'll call you!" Whirl cheered, seeming like he hadn't a care in the world, "Well right this way, Optimus, the guards won't let us stand here forever. And I'm sure you can see how mean they can be... Primus, they give me the owwies every day!"

Optimus watched as Whirl rubbed his arm like he got rough handling here constantly, and felt a sliver of empathy. "Your name is 'Whirl' if I picked up correctly?" he slowly began to walk out, feeling the safety of the doors grow lost to him.

"You picked up correct, Optimus," Whirl tapped his two digits together to create some funny noise before pointing them at the autobot and smiling again, "I'm the fastest, hottest, most bad aft bot around, and you can ask anyone you want, they'll tell you the same."

Optimus continued to slowly walk alongside the yappy mech, out of the buildings shadow and into the morning sun. He looked around at all the large fences and walls that created a round fortress around the courtyard, and kept from frowning. He stopped however when Whirl leaned in and tapped on his shoulder.

"But seriously, if you are gonna ask anyone about me, then ask like Cyclonus, Screamer or Skywarp because they're the only ones who'll vouch for me," Whirl then added quickly with a wave of his servo, "But I have other fans too- oh- well looky there. Here they come!"

Optimus shuttered his optics before looking straight forward in the direction Whirl was looking in only to gasp softly. A big tumble wave of inmates were coming right towards them, and Optimus was sure that they _weren’t_ fans. He watched, spark drumming, as some large blue decepticon roughly pushed a red one to the ground and resumed his staggering closer.

They looked at Optimus like he really was dinner, like he was some kind of rare meal that they hardly ever got to taste. Some of them fought, others struggled and some just looked flat out scary and determined.

Optimus almost wanted to hide behind Whirl considering he was about the same height and skinnier. But that one friend he was fortunate enough to have made was now being swamped in all the other inmates, tossing him aside like some runt of the bunch. It tore Optimus's spark.

He immediately reached out for Whirl, trying to apologize for the sudden commotion that _he_ was causing. But arms wrapped around his own from behind and pulled him back. Optimus gapped and dug his peds into the ground, grunting, gasping and watching as someone hit Whirl clean across the face and sent him flying twenty feet away, his body skidding across the rough craters of the unforgiving ground.

"Where do you think you're going, newbie?" the inmate from behind asked, his voice taunting, "I just wanna play. No need to struggle."

"Hey! I wanted him first!" a green and black decepticon yelled.

"Finders keepers!" the black and purple mech from behind snickered and pulled Optimus as close to his chest as he could get him, "This mech is all mine now."

"Frag you, Tarn!" Overlord came barging in, hitting Tarn on the side of the head and sending both him and the autobot flying sideways. Then he pulled Tarn away and began rolling them around in the metal shards.

Optimus sat up fast, looking at all the fight happening around him. _Everyone_ was fighting. Energon going everywhere. It was a whole ginormous circle of at least twenty inmates swinging, hitting, punching and kicking. Shouts rained from their mouths, death threats and promises. Sex talk and ideas were shared before the mouth fulls of energon were quickly spat out and replaced by more cursing.

Optimus stood up and searched for an escape route only to be jumped on by some heavy, blue mech with strange looking forks on his head. "Get off me at once!" he thrashed but the mech only grabbed his servos and pinned them above his head.

"Damn, yous a pretty mech. I migh' jus' have to frag yous out ere'!" the blue mech with antlers for brains leaned down closer to Optimus and studied his face with burning red optics, "And yous jus' how I like em', ey? Small, sexy an' probably tighter than the pits!"

Optimus squirmed, grunting as he felt Thunderhoof's knee dig between his thighs, his large body nearly crushing his own. "I am not for your own personal pleasure," he said in his deep, proud voice, "Release me, now!"

Thunderhoof huffed in his face and got ready to kiss him until he was choking on his own glossa. "Tough luck," he leaned in and bit Optimus's chin lightly, licking his way up to the clamped shut lips and shaking helm, "I think yous know wha' I's wantin' so open up- Ey yo!"

Some purple decepticon yanked Thunderhoof off by his antlers and threw him on the ground. Optimus was relieved and he quickly tried scooting back, trying to find enough strength to dig through his shock and stand up and fight. But he was just so petrified and panicked, his joints freezing in such wild emotions that he didn't know what to do really.

Backing himself into the steel wall and looking around, Optimus saw that more than half of the inmates who had been fighting were now either limping away or lying on the ground- offline. Alarmed, Optimus's spark roared with fury but he wouldn't listen to it. He needed to get out of here.

He turned and got ready to run out of the group when somebody else grabbed him, spun him around and pushed him into the wall. With a loud crash, Optimus grunted and tried pushing the mech away only to feel completely helpless as the bigger mech pinned him with just his large size and wide frame. Remembering this as the mech who handled him first, Optimus reared his head back and growled.

"Sorry about the delays," Tarn said maliciously, licking the energon from his scarred lips and staring Optimus deeply in his blue optics with his own violet ones, "Some mechs just don't know the meaning behind 'finders keepers' do they?"

Optimus almost gulped. This guy was big. Almost bigger than Megatron it seemed like, and he certainly had a far less friendly grip than the Warlord himself. It made Optimus fear for the worst as he looked up at the mean looking scar angled down towards the mech's lips and wondered how on Cybertron he received it. But now wasn't the time for pitiful questions. Now was the time to save his sanity.

"I belong to no one!" Optimus tried keeping the harrowing wheeze in his voice from being present as he thrashed and struggled.

Tarn looked down at him and smirked, pressing their chests together and rubbing. "Mmm... I know you don't belong to anyone yet, and that's why I'm going to be your first. You _will_ belong to me and I _will_ take you to berth every night and talk you to overload without so much as even touching you."

Flattering. Optimus grunted again and tried using his legs to push the other mech away, wishing someone would come remove him already. "I will never belong to you. I refuse," Optimus said, his voice struggling to stay compliant.

"Shh, shh, shh..." Tarn stroked his helm and whispered seductively, "You're nervous. That's fine. All mechs get nervous around me- do you know why?"

Optimus only scowled at him.

Tarn leaned in to his face and brushed their noses together before breathing, "Because I'm a talker."

"Mmff!" Optimus internally shrieked when Tarn pressed their lips together, their bodies now flush against each other.

Tarn moaned, growling at the bot's stubbornly closed lips before pulling away and saying softly, "I can fix that, but you wouldn't want me to have to do that. You don't want me to have to talk to you."

Optimus still kept his mouth shut before getting an idea and almost jumping with excitement. To keep from showing it, he leaned his helm all the way back in disgust, lower lip curling.

Tarn saw this and pressed their lips back together at once, sliding his glossa out and penatrateing the newbie's soft, wonderful lips. He moaned, rutting Optimus with his glossa without mercy.

The guards had disabled all of Optimus's weapons and communication controls before he came here, but there was still _one_ little device they failed to remove.

Optimus's battle mask.

With one more grunt, he activated the metal covering and snapped it shut- right on the decepticon’s glossa. Optimus leaned back, tasting energon that wasn't his own and watching as his mask squeezed the con's glossa tightly between its sharp edges.

Tarn made a funny shrieking noise with his glossa being painfully held captive, and tugged his helm away. But that damn mask had him gripped like a vice so he tugged again. Still not working and it was beginning to hurt _bad_. This time, Tarn put both his servos on the wall and pushed away. His glossa coming free with a wet snap.

Optimus wiped the energon off and shoved Tarn to the ground before facing the opposite direction and running in it. He saw a group of guards just on the other side of the courtyard and made a beeline to get to them. From behind, he heard Tarn's endless yells of outrage and revenge as he screamed and stomped after him.

Panic once again drowned Optimus as the decepticons all looked at him. He tried to shut it all out but it was too distracting. At every angle, he looked around. Paranoid and distressed. watching out for anyone else who wanted to hurt him.

Alas, half ways through the middle of the field, Optimus was pounced again, and this time pinned down by _two_ inmates. One held his arms while the other straddled his thighs.

"That was bold," a mech with a large red X across his face snarled at him, " _No one_ does that to Tarn."

"Not unless they want a slow and painful death," Helex blinked down at Optimus from up above as he held his servos and smirked, "Hello sexy. Told ya I'd see you soon."

This, Optimus could not fight. He was pinned down too much and with all these other decepticon Inmates plunging in on him, he had very little alternatives. But he still tried to stay positive, telling himself that it would be alright, that the guards would come or another fight would start and he'd get away again.

"Hold him up," A dark silhouette blocked out the sun and loomed over Optimus.

The two inmates complied and gripped Optimus by his shoulders and arms, bringing him to his knees. The autobot barely had time to blink before a rough blow was delivered straight to the side of his face. Yelling sharply, Optimus's helm flew back until he caught it and readjusted, cringing at the painful stinging. His whole face bloomed with heat and pain, his optics immediately clenching shut to relieve the major discomfort.

And then another hit was delivered right to his mouth, and although it was protected by his battle mask, it still hurt like mother F-ing slag and sent him flying backwards into the ground. There, Optimus groaned, his helm dizzy and processor unfocused as it registered the pain more than it did anything else. The sun glared at him, and Optimus wish he could just die already.

"Restrain him and turn him over," Tarn demanded the other two inmates, watching with a mean snarl as they listened and did as told.

Helex and Tesarus grabbed Optimus and turned him over to his front rather harshly and scooted his knees up to present his pert, blue aft in the space. Then they proceeded to hold him down, looking back at their group leader and waiting.

Tarn kneeled down behind Optimus and grabbed his aft roughly, digging his digits into it and huffing. "Open up," he demanded bitterly, warning, "Or else."

"You better listen," Helex said in a courtesy voice, rolling his optics and looking away.

Tesarus nodded in agreement, "Yeah, you don't know what Tarn can do. So you better listen."

Optimus vaguely lifted his helm and looked around. The guards weren't even glancing his way, and inmates stood around watching him. Nobody helping. He searched for Whirl but couldn't see him and he hoped he was okay. He wanted to apologize, but sadly, he didn't think he would be able to.

As digits fingered at the edges of his panel, Optimus lowered his head and sighed. He wouldn't give in. No. If they wanted something then they would have to take it.

"Bad move," Tarn said and lifted his servo in the air.

From the gap between his legs, Optimus could tell that he was about to be spanked _hard_. Closing his optics and bracing for pain, he accepted his fate and readied himself for a slap surely said to be followed by more.

But the slap never came....

Infact, everything went stalk silent. Helex and Tesarus both let go of him and scooted back. Even Tarn seemed to shuffle backwards a little bit, his servo lowering back to his side.

Confused, Optimus was about to lift his helm when he felt a large, gentle servo rest on his shoulder. Unable to tense more, he then felt another servo reach under his arm and pull. Following the silent order, he kicked his legs in and slowly began to stand. The servos didn't leave. They stayed, the calming heat radiating from them making Optimus hope that this was a friendly mech or guard.

But who he saw was not who he expected.

Megatron. The dark grey and black beast himself was standing before the whole courtyard. His presence was known quite well around here and anyone could say that he was not someone who you'd want to meddle with.

Optimus blinked a few times, the look of utter confusion and shock on his face almost appeasing to the old lord. "Come with me, now," he heard Megatron say in his loud, demanding rumble.

Somehow feeling relieved, Optimus allowed the large decepticon to hold his shoulder while guiding him in a random direction. Spark viscously working to stay alive, Optimus looked around and saw all the other inmates either cowering or staring at them as if Megatron would drop and charge at any moment. Questions built up inside his processor, questions he was too afraid to ask.

As they walked, Optimus looked forward and noticed that they were nearing a small group of peculiar mechs. There was a red mech with blue servos, a purple mech with silver horns, a dark blue mech with a red visor and a very familiar light blue mech with one yellow optic.

"Hey Optimus!" Whirl waved, seeming to be unharmed and totally chill that Megatron was handling him, "I saw the ruckus happen. Are you okay?"

Optimus nodded, not aware of how badly he was shaking. Deep, deep down in the deepest most unknown part of his body, he felt the urge to whimper and cry- To just curl up in a ball and hide or embrace someone who wouldn't hurt him. Thank Primus no one could see his mouth.

"Good, I didn't think Megs would get there in time," Whirl pretended to wipe condensation from his head.

" _You_ sent Megatron?" Optimus asked once they stopped upon the group and the large servo left his shoulder. But for some reason, the loss of that servo made him feel terribly exposed and targeted again.

Whirl shook his helm, "Nope. I was too busy fightin' for my own life."

"I'm sorry," Optimus said, lifting his shaky servo out before noticing its trembling and lowering it back down, "I did not mean for you to get hurt."

Whirl laughed full heartedly and waved it off, "No hard feelings. I totally understand. Inmates around here are _crazy_."

"So what's _Optimus Prime_ doing in Grindcore?" the grumpy red mech asked.

"Is that information truly yours to know, Starscream?" Cyclonus asked from beside the snarky seeker.

Starscream hissed, "Yes! If the autobots going to be joining our group then I have every right to know incase he tries back stabbing me!"

"Aww, I doubt that," Whirl said happily, his optic squinted in that-always- cheerful way, "Optimus is too cute to do anything like that. I mean, did you _see_ him out there!? He didn't even take a bolt out of those idiots."

"That's because you see what he wants you to see," Starscream growled, his distrust very irritating.

In the meantime, Optimus retreated back into his thoughts, trying to calm down. He was safe now. He was okay. These mechs weren't going to hurt him... Right? Oh! Optimus wanted to die. _Just die_.

"Here," Megatron's strong voice echoed inside Optimus's processor and he looked over to see the Warlord handing him a white cloth.

Optimus slowly, with shaky servos, took the rag and looked up at Megatron, keeping his voice from cracking, "What is this for?"

"The energon," Megatron said and looked down at Optimus's stained battle mask before muttering, "Do hurry."

Optimus watched as Megatron left to set in the middle of the group, instantly being ranted at by Starscream and the other inmates. The sight eased the dwelling urge in his body and made him calm down. Feeling the soft material in his servo, Optimus wondered why Megatron had saved him in the first place.

Had Whirl asked him? Was Megatron just generous and kind? Was it unintentional? Was Megatron just saving him for later? Had he felt the need to save him because he was about to be... raped?

"You should stay away from Tarn," Whirl suddenly whipped in beside him and perked, "He's a real tight aft. Always demanding and getting what he wants. But you're lucky Megatron came in beforehand... No one messes with the ol' Master Megs."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School just started so I may not be able to update as frequently. SORRY. But maybe I can sneak my phone out during a few classes and write some more.... We'll see XD
> 
> But in the meantime... 
> 
> Sit back, read, enjoy, like, comment, fall asleep or do whatever floats your boat!

Optimus's peds were knocked out from beneath him as the shackles pulled his back to its doom. He grunted in shock, arms out to brace himself but the hammer made it too heavy. He soon landed aft and back first onto the many shards and clumps of crystals on the ground. The weight of the hammer doubling his pain and damaging sensitive wiring.

"Alright, what the _frag_?!" a guard screamed, stomping up behind all the inmates.

Optimus shakily sat up, feeling as if his back had been jammed with stones- which it probably had. He squinted one optic tightly, desperately trying to stand back up but all the other fallen inmates prevented that. Optimus looked over, hearing the guards blowing up in rampage, and saw the source of the accident.

Two decepticon Inmates had apparently gotten the shackles all tangled while trading places which caused the knot to yield and it pulled them down to the ground. Since the shackles connected them all, everyone else down in line had no choice but to be forcefully invited into the rough impact as well.

"You two!" the guard began yelling a whole list of names and curses, saying that he was going to give them the inhibitor spike and lock them up with Tarn or Megatron.

The thought of Lord Megatron made Optimus shiver. He hadn't spoken much to the Warlord since his first day. All that happened yesterday was simply ignored and put to rest like it should be. Optimus nor Megatron need discuss it. But after spending most of the day with Whirl, Optimus had learned that Megatron was the bad bot of the place. You _don't_ mess with him.

Megatron could crush crystals for ten hours and not even bat a optic lid in response. He was strong, daring, cruel and powerful. He never stood up to anyone because he didn't really have to. Once Lord Megatron pinpoints someone then they might as well submit. He's who all the newest, extreme bad guys go to.

Whirl had pointed out some mechs that had been in Megatron's ' _care_ ' and even admitted that he had been locked up with him once. But Megatron hadn't hurt him. Whirl had the same stripe as Optimus and that was it. He was only here because he got into a fight with a bunch of wreckers and accidentally got more violent than he should have, but Megatron didn't think this bad enough for punishment... at least not that much.

Optimus wondered why Megatron hasn't touched him yet. Didn't he think he was bad too? That he deserved harsh and unforgiving punishment. Wasn't that why they were still staying together?

"Hey, get up, screwballs!" that stupid guard named 'Steve' shouted as he lifted his electric whip back as a warning.

Quickly, after the other inmates detached and were escorted to their doom, all the left behind workers stood up and got back to work. Three hours and Optimus was burning and hurting and stewing. His face actually hurt from how much he cringed and squinted his optics, battle mask in place so that the sweepers couldn't kiss him.

Again with the being molested, except this time Optimus had gotten snappy. He had gotten whipped twice on the back for pushing two sweepers to the ground. But they had went too far, crossing that triggering red line and setting off the monster.

"Pushing leads to shoving," Optimus had said spitefully.

And of course, the guards only snorted at him and made him get back to work. The suns went back to scolding him, and Optimus wondered how long till his paint began to peel off in the sweltering heat. Twice he had done this work already, three times he had gotten sick, twice he collapsed on the floor and ended up in berth, and twenty-six times he had been molested.

Wonderful. Optimus broke through the crystals, pretending like they were all the mechs he wanted to punch. Three hours down. Two to go. No break, no thirty second ventilation exercise, and no mercy.

_Two hours later..._

"Hey Blumpkin," Optimus stopped hammering when those two assigned guards came up from behind, and retracted his battle mask, "Looks like ya proved yourself worthy of a little shower time."

"Today," the other guard sounded... _gratifying_ to Optimus who nearly dropped the heavy hammer in a moment of need and desire.

The guards unlocked his shackles and began leading him through the fences and hallways. They didn't say much for some reason, but Optimus wasn't sure if that was because he was deaf or because they were unhappy about him earning rights to a shower. But he didn't care!

Right now Optimus felt like a worn out, exhausted hunk of metal floating on a soft, grey cloud on his way to the place of Allspark sin. His joints were extremely sore, damaged circuits demanding attention and gentle rubbing, arms and legs sagging and back throbbing. His helm felt hollow. Optimus wanted recharge more than anything, but he wanted the hot, beating water to wash away all his pain and torture even more.

As they arrived upon a curved doorway that you had to walk in to reach the public washracks, Optimus shook his head to rid some of his drowsiness. He could hear the running water from inside and felt his spark rattle with glee. _Finally_.

"Ya got one hour and then it's back to your cell," the guard jabbed a digit in his chest and glared, "Don't pass out because we ain't carrying ya back. The decepticons can have ya for all we care."

Optimus nodded. _Come on._ He just wanted to get in there already before he _does_ pass out.

Thankfully they left and Optimus was able to walk in through the doorway. The sounds became stronger as he went, steam began filling his nasal sensors and water could be felt beneath his peds.

When Optimus walked through the open doorway, his optics and audios got quite the fill. The giant washroom was big but exposed. There were no stalls, individual dividers or curtains. Shower heads aligned the tops of the ceilings above every wall, each one ten to fifteen feet apart. There were drains on the old, multi-grey colored floor along with mechs moaning and groaning.

Optimus felt his spark stop. Just _stop_.

The room was filled with at least twenty other hard working inmates who had earned rights to the showers, but some of them were in more _intimate_ positions. For instance: there were three mechs doing it at the end of the room, one was giving the other a spike job while being humped in the aft from behind. Any other mechs scattered across the room were either making out or just engaging in foreplay, getting ready for a nice relaxing hour of play time.

Optimus wasn't sure if he could do it. There was a perfectly lonely shower head just in the middle of the back wall. But all these other fragging fraggers prevented his legs from wanting to work. He was worried. He didn't want to be molested or dragged into any more harsh handling.

But his body yearned to be washed and cleaned so Optimus pushed himself forward, desperate to ignore all the sights and noises of most certain climaxing. He scrunched his face up, hit by the smells and tangs of other mechs fluids and arousals. It made him both sick and light headed.

Optimus tried to remain calm and unnoticeable which seemed to have worked as he made it to the shower head and turned it on. Giving a small glance around, Optimus figured that all the other inmates must be too busy enjoying themselves to really notice him which was a good thing.

Turning the lever to the red dot, Optimus was immediately met with _cold_ water splashing down on his frame. In less than an instant, his joints locked up and he shivered, mechanical goosebumps devouring his protoform. He waited, trying to see if the water was just taking its time warming up, but it didn't appear to be getting any better at all.

Looking around for any other free shower heads, Optimus saw the hot, steamy source in which all the warm water was going to. _Lord Megatron_. Oh, how could he forget? Megatron always gets what he wants, even if it's the best shower head with the most functional water heating system. Primus help him, Optimus was about to crash.

Sighing softly, Optimus looked in the opposite direction and saw another unoccupied shower to his left and wondered if it had good water. The freezingness pounding down on his frame was much too joint locking and denta jittering to handle.

But just a few feet away from that shower head was a big, blue mech with broad shoulders and a orange face standing in front of a kneeling red bot. His large servo laid on the back of the mech's helm, guiding him back and forth as his wide hips rocked. The red mech on his knees was practically worshipping the bigger mech like a dog, moaning and gagging, bracing himself and trying to concentrate.

It didn't take a genius to know what they were doing.

Optimus wasn't watching so much as he was processing whether or not he wanted to go over there. Because that...

The red mech pulled back, made a vial choking noise before throwing up all over the blue mech's crotch. The water washed the energon away, and with a loud groan, the blue mech overloaded right in the choking bot's face.

Optimus covered his mouth and turned back toward the wall, trying to blink the image out of his processor. Primus. Why did he have to see that? Ugh! What is _wrong_ with these inmates? Why were they so disgusting? And why the FRAG does he have to be here with them?!

Optimus was starting to freak out in anger, fear and revulsion. This was just _too_ much. He looked up at the sprinkling shower head and cursed his bad luck, optics getting covered in water. He decided to just stay here, even if there was a mess of screaming, writhing, wet decepticon Inmates surrounding him. He was tired, his body ached, he wanted to feel clean and relaxed, but he doubt he ever would. With no illusion of safety or degree of comfort, he wasn’t getting anything other than natural prison abuse.

"Well look at you," a voice that Optimus had not recognized said and made his spark jump-

Especially when his entire front was pushed right up into the wall, and a body similar to his own held him from behind. A maroon servo landed on the wall beside his helm and he looked at it. Purple and white stripes on the wrist... Oh Primus.

"All alone here?" the mech bent over Optimus, his free servo running down his side and to his pretty little aft, "That's a shamed..."

"Get off," Optimus grunted, his arms feeling way too weak and worn out for fighting or defending himself. He squirmed, trying to get the mech off, but sharply vented when he grabbed his aft.

"A mech as fine as you shouldn't be all alone," Lockdown felt for the hatches of Optimus's interface armor, fingering the seams, "Why don't you let me in? I'll make this good for you, I'll be gentle... Well, as gentle as I _can_ anyway. With a mech as pretty as you, I don't know how much control I'm willing to use."

"I do not desire being handled by anyone," Optimus protested sharply, really freaking out when a digit dug into a close seam by his panel, almost pulling the latches. "Get off me. Now."

"Not a chance," Lockdown smirked, studying the mech's reaction as he neared the hatches, "You're gonna open up for daddy and you're gonna take his spike like a good little autobot."

Optimus's intake hitched when Lockdown found the latches and pulled them up, "No!"

"Shh, calm down," Lockdown looked at the now open seam and gripped his own panel, "I'm gonna make this so good for you, just wait and find out - Ahhg!"

A large servo grabbed Lockdown's head and easily tossed him backwards with a mean crash. The mech landed in the middle of the wet floor, other inmates stopping to look over at all the commotion. Lockdown sat up, ready to tear apart whoever dared to take his prize away. But upon seeing Megatron standing in front of the little autobot, even he froze.

Optimus turned around quickly, but that same haunting black servo grabbed his forearm and drug him away. He was barely able to catch a glimpse of Lockdown's mad but intimidated expression as he watched Megatron drag him off. For some reason, Optimus wasn't as scared but his interface panel was open and Megatron did have him in his deadly, tortuous clutches...

"What are you doing?" Optimus asked in a more exhausted voice, looking up at Megatron who pulled him closer, down into the scalding hot pour of water. And- _oh_ , oh, oh, oh, _oh!_ It was the greatest feeling. Optimus all but groaned, slumping in the wonderful drenching display.

Megatron glared at the little helpless autobot and growled, reaching forward and grabbing his shoulders. He turned him around to face the wall, pressing his own bulky front against his back and leaning in, whispering, "Do you want them to leave you alone?"

Optimus couldn't respond with much more than a tired, pleased grunt, his sore joints singing in content for having such amazing treatment. He knew that he should be terrified, he should be concerned and defensive, but his exhaust levels were high and his processor had had enough stress as of late. Feeling Megatron press into him made him feel- _and Primus, he couldn't believe he was admitting this..._ It made him feel protection.

Optimus grunted, bracing his servos against the wall as he leaned his helm down, feeling Megatron's warm ventilations as he rested his head beside his neck. He felt a servo rub up his back, the digits gently gliding across the sore joints and very carefully tweaking at damaged wires.

"Pretend that you are mine," Megatron's voice echoed like Optimus's processor was an empty valley.

Megatron pulled away slightly, looking down at the autobot’s back and hips, getting a feel for how dirty he had gotten during the working hours. He started by grabbing his personal cloth and rubbing it over all the red and blue, silvery metal. His digits came up and dug into open seams, pulling out the lodged crystals and stones. Hearing a satisfied groan made Megatron's interface panel warm with both desire and furiousity.

Optimus was shapely and strong, his body designed beautifully. He was a sculpture by the gods. Megatron was induced. He wanted to do things to Optimus. He wanted what every other inmate wanted but in a different way. He wanted Optimus moaning and writhing beneath his frame, arching everytime their hips met and crying out only _his_ designation. He wanted verbal consent so he could take his seals and officially claim Optimus as his. All his.

Megatron pressed into the autobot’s back and removed all the jammed stones before slipping his digits back in and rubbing the sore wires and circuitry. Everytime he did this, it earned a hot interface fueling moan or shudder, Optimus actually leaning back into him. Megatron understood he was exhausted, but he wouldn't take advantage of that.

Seeing other mechs trying to take advantage made his energon bubbles burst.

Megatron lowly growled, using the solvent to clean away all the dirt. Slowly he moved the cloth over Optimus's shoulders and neck, down his arms and around his waist. The water was still severely hot, and Megatron was sure that it was only encouraging the bot's exhaustion levels.

That only made him growl more.

When Megatron washed a little lower, his processor roared with both fury and lust when he noticed the opened interface panel. His optics turned rose red and his denta clenched. Oh, he was so gonna dissolve Lockdown in his own punching cloud of pain and merciless beating... But later.

Right now, Megatron bent back over the softly groaning autobot and whispered, "Do I have permission to close your panel?"

Optimus seemed to tense, forgetting that his back interface panel was opened and was now presented right before the big and cruel decepticon lord. He slowly looked back at Megatron and searched his optics. Well he hadn't violated him so far, and Optimus had been enjoying his attentions, so maybe this was just another act of kindness? He _did_ ask for permission.

"Yes." Optimus continued to look at those red optics even as they slipped down to his lower backside making him tense again. But what he felt made him hum in confusion.

Megatron slid his servo between the bot's thighs, grabbed his panel and slid it back down in place over his untouched port. Then he removed his servo at once and went back to cleaning the tired autobot, memorizing the shocked look he got him to make.

As large, gentle servos went back to kneading and massaging at sore sensors, Optimus lowered his head back down and closed his optics. Primus, he _needed_ this. He needed the hot water, kind touches and wonderful attention. But he was getting it from Megatron. And he was enjoying it. How could he? How could he stand there and practically submit himself into the biggest, most dangerous decepticon around?

Optimus had his interface panel open for Primus sake! And yet he still let Megatron touch him, but... Megatron didn't so much as even _acknowledge_ his desires- if he had any- which made Optimus even more encouraged to trust.

"Turn around," Megatron ordered and grabbed the autobot’s waist, helping him not to slip as he worked to face him.

When Optimus's gorgeous front came into view, Megatron moved closer and pressed their frames together. He carefully pressed him into the wall, knowing how sore he was, and just proceeded with looking down at him. Optimus gave him a quick flash of weary before it was replaced by confusion and something else.

Servo coming up, Megatron lifted Optimus's helm up and looked down at his damaged lips. Dammit. All the stress and commotion must be causing Optimus to bite himself. That or _someone else_ had bit him.

The thought caused Megatron to vibrate with rage. He would kill anyone who touched Optimus Prime. With the hot water beating down on them, Megatron watched as the autobot’s lips parted in a soft groan, blue optics closing in peace. Was he really that comfortable around him?

Megatron continued to stare at Optimus's face, looking over his sleepy optics, cute audio fins, tinted red cheeks and full, gapped lips. He had to make these robo-perverts understand that Optimus was his, and that they better not mess with him. He couldn't let anyone touch him.

It was like a responsibility...

Which it was.

Megatron leaned his helm down, optics squinting as he stared at the drowsy Prime's face, his lips the invitations that he wanted to take and take. And he got _so_ close, brushing Optimus's cheek with his nasal sensor and venting in his face. Those blue optics blinked in a tired manner making Megatron snarl to himself. They were so close, so very, _very_ close.

Megatron’s scarred yet plump lips so dangerously close to softer, full ones. All it would take was a little push...

"Would you two just do it already!" someone hollered.

Megatron snapped and turned around. Half the room jumped in fright of the large, cruel mech, some inmates scrambling to hide behind others. It was a pathetic scene. Megatron was tempted to bark and demand to know who said that so that he could turn them into a bloody energon puddle, but a tired tug brought him back to the autobot.

Looking back at the room and giving off a warning glare, Megatron reached in and grabbed Optimus, sweeping him off his unstable legs and lifting him against his chassis. Optimus barely had time to gasp, thinking this as some sort of scheme before he realized the exact position he was in. Looking down, he had to really get it in there that Megatron- of all mechs in the world- was _carrying_ him in his arms. A large servo came in underneath his knees while the other held his back, his side pressed against the powerful mech's front.

Megatron ignored any comments or stares as he carried Optimus back to their cell. He wanted _everyone_ to get the point straight through their processors. Optimus was his now, and if they dared to touch him.... Click.

Optimus actually found this to be kind of nice. Big, strong, warm arms closing in around him. That powerful frame rumbling and vibrating against him creating an impenetrable wall. They might still be a little wet, but that didn't matter. It was warm, it was comforting, it was safe.

And Optimus was too tired to really give a frag.

Megatron snuffed past any guards who stood by staring at him like he might be making another big mess tonight. _Oh_ , little did they know the truth, and their expectations were very high.

Once Megatron made it to their cell, he waited for the guards to open it before moving inside and laying Optimus down on the berth. The mech shifted some, his optics closed as he got comfy. Megatron growled lowly within his chest, wanting to dominate and claim that body until it was nothing but a big trembling mess of his name and pleasure.

"Why are you treating me with such kindness?" Optimus asked in a sleepy voice, optics barely able to stay open.

Megatron turned to face the bench, his face subdued in a little scowl as he gazed at the wall. "As I said before," he grumbled, waiting a few long moments before finishing, "You don't belong here."

Optimus was already in recharge though, his frame lax and calm. He vented softly, finally getting some decent recharge without the raw feeling of being molested all day, and now under the illusion of _safety_.

Megatron waited a long time. Just staring at the wall. His fists clenched faintly until the lights flickered off and he instantly dropped to his knees. He made a large crashing noise that didn't even make Optimus twitch through his deep recharge. And then, with a heavy intake, he opened his front interface panel.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! Chapter 5 is here! Gosh, I'm so sorry about the stretched updating, friends! I have a very busy schedule this year and school is driving me bananas :< But at least I got this juicy box updated! 
> 
> By the way, I want everyone to know that you can picture Megatron from whichever universe you'd like. I'm not specific. You can picture him from Animated, Prime, the Bayverse or even as that purple, bucktooth wonderment from Beast Wars. Same goes for Optimus... But anyway... 
> 
> Sit back, read, enjoy, like, comment, fall asleep or do whatever floats your boat!

Optimus began to waken from his deep, long recharge. Primus, he hadn't slept that good in a long, long time- not even before the incident. But still, his joints were complaining in their own silent pulses about drifts of minimal pain and soreness. His processor beeped internally, giving him a full body checking and system reading to see if he was all put together and stable.

He seemed okay.

Slowly resetting his CPU for a brand new, unpredictable day, Optimus onlined his optics. And the first thing he saw was a whole bunch of shadowy dark, nightmarish grey lined with red and purple. It made him lock up and tense, optics like scrambling scraplets as they zoomed across everything in sight.

Optimus noted that he was laying on his side, there was a large, ponderous arm draped across his waist and he was facing the unmistakable mass that is Lord Megatron.

At first Optimus was stuck like Cyber glue, too immobile and shocked to move. He replayed memory files and traveled back to last night- to when Megatron had protected him, washed him, handled him and then carried him in his big, warm, safe arms all the way back here- but after that last encounter it was all blank. Optimus had been practically drunk in recharge. And the real bad part was that he didn't remember what or if anything had happened to him in his oblivious state.

Looking up, Optimus saw that Megatron's optics were closed, helm resting on his own arm in use for a pillow. He looked so... peaceful, comfortable, secluded. The way his scarred lips gapped in silently ghosting ventilations, how his optics fluttered naturally in either nudged processing or unknown dreams, and how he held the autobot like a close partner or... love-r.

It had Optimus wondering just what was going through that evil helm of his. The autobot leader continued to stare while lost in the land of non-understanding things, trying to make things make sense, but it was hard. Megatron was just too mysterious and... unforeseeable. Optimus could never predict what he was thinking or why.

Last night's conversation came back and made Optimus click with a moment of severe confusion and weary. ' _Pretend that you are mine.'_

What. The. Frag.

What was that suppose to mean? Did Megatron actually want to protect him? Or was he just trying to peruse him so he could have him all to himself? Was he just trying to lure him into a false sense of comfort so that he could hurt him later? Or was he _really_ wanting to help?

Optimus shook his helm and braced himself to set up, but as soon as he made the slightest movement, the arm around him tightened and pulled him closer. Optimus made a small grunt and used both his servos to push against the larger mech's chassis but it proved useless as he was literally squashed against Megatron’s big, powerful body. He bit back a flustered expression when he noticed the intimate stance of their tangled legs, pelvic plating rubbing against each other.

Optimus blinked in a desperate hurry, his olfactory sensor releasing a distressed ventilation as he took it all in. Megatron's interface panel was warm- and not just like causal warm or cute warm- it was _overheated_. It made Optimus feel the warmth in his cheeks move all the way to the top of his helm, lighting up sensors that made him humiliated in the innocent situation.

Primus, he should know perfectly well about morning waking up protocol by now; mechs will always be... _overheating_ behind their spike panels before they have woken up.

Gathering his composure and mental stability, Optimus squirmed and carefully, in the least disturbing way, pushed against the decepticon’s rumbling chassis. Upon hearing a low growl, he stopped and looked up. Megatron’s face seemed as neutral as ever so Optimus waited a klik before trying again, pulling back in the slightest way that allowed him to get his arm free. From there he reached back to possibly pry away those large digits that were gripping firmly into his back plates.

"Mhrrr," The arm around the autobot tightened threateningly while the other arm moved around him.

Optimus barely had time to contemplate before he was being gripped and rolled over, his body tensing yet again. And it only took less than a hand full of seconds for Megatron to lay comfortably on his back- still deep in recharge- with the autobot laying on top of him, his large servo keeping a thorough hold on his hips and back.

Optimus quickly pushed himself up, making a strangled noise and biting his lower lip plate. He looked down to see that Megatron’s face was very unaware of the situation and was currently lost in its own imagination of _whatever_ may be happening inside his processor. Ehk! Optimus sat up even more, his legs moving up so that his knees supported him.

He had one leg over the decepticon's hip, now if he could just get the other one...

Optimus gasped when those dangerous, foreboding servos gripped and pinned him down, leaving him with no choice but to be stuck in a position that involved his thighs straddling Megatron's broad hips, his waist being trapped in a near painful grip, and his own interface panel pressed completely against the hotter one.

 _Ahhh_!

Optimus tried to stay calm, telling himself that it was okay. He was _okay_. Megatron was just sleepy and having, uhh... sweet dreams. This was natural. Bots' do it all the time. He just needed to simply manipulate the situation and manage freedom and he would be fine. He just had to pry himself... free.

Megatron suddenly rolled his hips, back arching in this strange way that made their interface panels _rub_ together. A small scraping sound happened followed by a low, lustful, pleasant groan. Optimus clenched his bright blue optics shut in a moment of concealed panic. He bit his lip so hard it drew energon again, a trail running down a corner of his mouth.

 _Friction_. Optimus muffled a whimper as Megatron’s large, encasing servos gripped his waist and pulled his hips down as his back arched again, creating a frantic, sensor driven friction. And it made Optimus internally moan, his chest rumbling with broken, unstable fans as he worked past the emitted pleasure that struggled through him. He shook his helm, trying to sit up but it happened again.

Megatron moved his hips again and practically scraped their panels together, sparking metal dancing across their intimate arrays. His head tilted back and he groaned, one of his servos moving down to squeeze at Optimus's enticing, smooth aft.

"Megatron!" Optimus pushed on the large mech's chest, now going with the last alternative, "Megatron wake up and release me... Now."

Another groan happened, this one somewhat annoyed and irritated. The servos were removed from his back to move more upwardly. Optimus took this as his chance to possibly free himself, lifting his dazed aft and readying his legs to shift. But...

"Ugh!" Megatron grabbed Optimus by the arms and yanked him down.

Optimus had to catch himself by grabbing Megatron's own shoulders to brace his weight on, getting absolutely bothered in the ridiculous situation. Primus help him. "Megatron," Optimus was ready to shout, trying to keep his helm turned away as those large servos moved up and down his back causing him to shudder.

"Optimus," Megatron whispered.

Optimus snapped his helm forward and looked down into open, earnest red optics. His face remotely heated a little bit more and he vented steadily. "Megatron," he looked down, trying to keep his pride intact.

Megatron stared at him as if he were still asleep, indulged in his night-time fantasies and examining Optimus like he was the center of such self absorbed passion. He seemed to be reflecting back on the incident, looking down at the autobot and the most questionable position they were in. And by the way he was gripping him, and the look on his face, Megatron found out what he had done quite quickly.

"Please," Optimus closed his optics and bowed his head, knowing that he was totally caught, "Release me."

And Megatron did.

When those servos let go, Optimus simply sat up and lifted his leg over Megatron's waist and sat down on the edge of the berth. His spark was the very beating of an overworking engine, processor presenting an online image of his lifeless fate. He tried fighting away the embarrassment, dismay, and unsettling emotions like they were deadly predacons.

Megatron sat up as well, legs setting over the edge of the berth and servo holding the side of his helm. "What happened?" he asked in a very unhappy tone.

It made Optimus flare with several different ideas and predictions. Oh, he _was not_ the cause of this! But he remained calm anyway, "I am not sure. When I awakened, you had been quick to grab me and... not let go."

Megatron pressed his face further into his palm, appearing very distressed. He silently cursed himself and shook his helm. A long moments worth of silence happened before the Warlord finally lowered his servo and admitted, "I believe I owe you an apology- not that I ever apologize- but it was not something I could fully control."

"It is okay," Optimus said in a non-offended voice, looking at the ground for a while before suggesting, "If it is too much, I do not mind recharging on the floor."

Megatron gave him a look, not necessarily a glare but one of the sort. He placed his servo on his thigh and raised an optical brow, "And why would you, Optimus Prime, do something so foolish and humiliating while knowing that I could spread the word and cause you further despair?"

Optimus gave him his stoic demeanor in return, "Waking up had its own way of being humiliating, and I would assume you would not want me spreading this rumor around myself."

Oh. _Oh_ , Megatron was _peeved_. So the prime was being bold, ey? Well two could play at that game. Megatron smirked and leaned back against the wall, setting at a angle with his legs spread and his servo raised. "You assume wrongly, dear prime," he said confidently, "Why should I be humiliated for indulging my own desires?"

"What?" Optimus whispered in disbelief, the sound so quick and yet echoing so slowly inside his processor, "Desires?"

Megatron hummed, "Yes. I may be a decepticon but that does not stop my desires from getting the better of me- especially here in Grindcore prison. And I have no shame admitting that _I do_ have fantasies, maybe not you, but for someone nonetheless."

Optimus looked over at him before wiping his lower lip where the energon smeared and he frowned. He didn't care who Megatron dreamed about screwing, he was still uncomfortable with waking up and being gripped everyday. Megatron might be okay with giving into his desires, but Optimus was not. He had pride and he had sanity, and he was not going to waste it here.

"Explain to me, Megatron: what did you mean the other night when you told me to pretend that I was yours?" Optimus had to ask, the topic coming up in the most demanding manner.

Megatron looked even more amused by this, "Certainly. But first you must tell me: do you truly want these other inmates to keep from touching you?"

Optimus paused, remembering his answer from last night and nodding hesitantly.

"Pretending that you are mine will make it clear that no one else is to touch you but I," Megatron explained like he could just dare anyone to make a move on him.

Optimus almost grimaced. "How?" he asked, "How will the impression of being yours repress their desires toward me?"

"Because they will know the consequences," Megatron's smirk turned into a small scowl and his voice deepened, "Anyone who knows me will know that I do not take well with others touching what is mine."

"Why?" Optimus asked, making a small shrug like he thought Megatron was either lying or just trying to trick him, "Why are you protecting me?"

"Because you do not belong here," Megatron said sternly, "I will not say it again."

Yeah, _whatever_. Optimus squinted his optics and continued his staring at the other mech, trying to get at least one positive idea out of all this. "What of other alternatives? Is there any other way I could prevent these inmates from attacking me without pretending to be yours?"

The look on Megatron’s face turned flat and unreadable, and it made Optimus's circuits crackle. He hated not being able to read that haunting face. He hated being surprised, alarmed and constantly bracing for whatever may come. This mornings attention still had a good hold of him making him ready to defend himself at any moment.

It took a minute, but Megatron finally blurted it like it was the most easy, simple thing in the universe. "Losing your seals."

Optimus stilled, his spark panicking like a chittering sparkling. He looked into those red optics and pondered the answer. Giving up his seal? Like actually interface with someone and let them take the one thing that could never be replaced? Here? At Grindcore?! "With who?" Optimus asked the question like it could never have a reasonable answer.

Megatron leaned his head to the side and looked Optimus up and down before pursing his lip components and saying, "I don't usually engage with mechs who require such dire needs, but it has been a while sense I last interfaced with an autobot- much less- a _prime_."

Optimus's optics widened so much that he was unsure how his metal brows weren't creaking. Megatron proposing to take his seal. Could there be anything more ludicrous or barbaric in the world? Optimus couldn't even imagine such a thing happening. Just thinking about it made his energon turn into a frozen pond.

Ok, he's gotta be honest; Megatron is very handsome both in body and facial features, he had a strong frame and a deep, gorgeous, alluring voice. But he also had to face it, Megatron is a decepticon. He's big, ruthless and powerful. If Optimus were to submit, Megatron would most likely take him to his immediate disadvantage, pin him, beat him and take him savagely. No mercy. Megatron wouldn't be gentle, he'd just take and take until he was satisfied thus leaving Optimus broken and unpleasured.

No. Optimus couldn't let that happen. Interfacing was special, it was important and serious. Optimus wanted his first time to be comfortable, happy, gentle and loving- a memorable moment that he could look back on in the future and smile at. He may not have a significant other, but he would find one some day... He hoped.

On the darker side, Optimus may not be able to leave this place with his seal still intact. Consensual or not, these decepticon Inmates were mad for him and his innocence. They would find a way to confront him and.... _Yeah_.

Megatron had a point.

Optimus blinked, his optics caked with emotion and his posture unreadable. "I... do not know if I am ready yet," he admitted in a soft, hesitant tone, gazing away, his shoulders loose, "But I am willing to pretend that I am yours if it means depriving the other inmates..."

Megatron smirked in a short lived victory. Yes. Step one complete. So what if the little bot was timid and cautious? More to surprise with! Even if this morning was humiliating, Megatron didn't regret it. In all honesty, he _was_ dreaming about Optimus, very wetly infact. He had to give the prime the benefit of the doubt. He would protect him... With costs.

"Under one condition," Megatron said, his voice not sounding too promising.

Optimus looked over at him, his digits noticeably curling on his lap as he waited.

Megatron's expression deepened making Optimus want to shrink in on himself. "You see, Prime, I am the strongest inmate that ever walked this prison. I can work for ten megacycles a day and the guards will treat me with respect because even they understand the consequences. I have my own limits and my own rules."

So Whirl had told him as well. Optimus blinked, unsure of what to say. He could imagine Megatron working his tailpipe off, getting extra energon and free showers. Whirl even said something about being able to work for ten hours ten days straight earns you a oil bath or something. And Megatron got one every single day. It was intimidating and frustrating. Optimus wanted similar treatment too...

"Methodically speaking: I do not have to do anything, Prime," Megatron stood up, popping a joint in his neck, "But out of all the things I _do_ do, I get rewarded or proposed with a deal... So if I do oblige and give you this offer, what will you give me in return?"

Optimus felt hopeless now. Well, there goes that little happy cloud. Back to the beating sun. Optimus almost sighed, feeling everything drooping like all the bolts inside him came loose. And yet, just in case there might still be hope, he asked, "What do you want?"

"A kiss," Megatron had said like it was the simplest, most easily granted thing.

Optimus felt as if he had just been socked in the back of the helm. He was surprised while at the same time he wasn't surprised. He knew Megatron would want _something_ from him, but he thought he'd want some kind of sick, indulging conflict that involved some sort of sexual activity - Or maybe even all his energon. So it had caught him by surprise that Megatron only wanted something so small and so simple.

"A kiss?" Optimus repeated as if thinking it over, wondering what details he may be wanting.

Megatron nodded, looking down at the prime and giving him a little lustful stare. Those sweet blue optics were so full of modesty, innocence, pride and hope. But unlike other decepticon Inmates, Megatron wanted to _heighten_ those feelings, not destroy them.

Before either one got to make a move or say another word, the heavy steel door began to open and two guards tumbled in.

"Well hello, lovelies!" one guard laughed, appearing quite hyped on synthetic energon or something, "Jus' came to give ya some fuel for the day, haha! You're lucky ya know? Woke up jus' in time for courtyard."

The more silent, aggressive guard stomped in and threw two energon cubes down on the bench. Then he straightened and gave both inmates a grumpy, rude glare. "Ya got fifteen cycles to finish them cubes, got it?"

Optimus nodded. Megatron smirked.

The more joyful guard giggled and blushed, eying Optimus and giving him a tantive wave. "Drink up," he grinned happily, "We'll cya later."

"Ugh, come on, Blik," the other guard growled and turned around, dragging the- _in love-_ guard out with him.

Primus, Optimus is ready to offline now if you'd like to come down and finish him off, please.

"What a surprise," Megatron reached down and grabbed his own cube when the doors slammed shut, sitting down on the bench, "It is your third day since rivalry and even the guards are lusting over you."

"It is no surprise to me anymore," Optimus turned his helm away in disgust, anger and misfortune. It was true. Being in this place, nothing could surprise him.

Megatron seemed to raise a curious brow at this and contained a more malicious smile that would be deceiving his own face had he not had the capacity to keep it back. "The guards have rights to do whatever they want with you," He informed while taking a drink out of his cube, "And you cannot refuse them."

Just one more reason to submit into the mega-fragger. Optimus kept from grumbling and lowered his helm. However, a black servo with a dispensed energon cube was lifted out, catching his attention and albeit shocking him. Optimus looked up, having not expected Megatron to do something so generous, but he complied without question.

"I would estimate by what you have informed so far that the guards are also capable of the same atrocities as the inmates?" Optimus took the cube and moved to sit down beside the big decepticon on the bench.

Well they _both_ just kept surprising each other because neither was Megatron expecting Optimus to do such a thing or even process getting that close to him. But whatever... He drank from his cube without question, setting comfortably before answering, "Correct. The only difference is that you cannot refuse the guards command. Inmates, you may have a better chance of getting rid of."

Optimus took a small drink out of his own energon cube, just a ped away from that monstrous form. He proceeded with staring at the scratched, abused floor like it was his mirror reflection- a sign of what he would look like if he did not get out of here soon. The information Megatron had given him had been all but encouraging. Nothing made him feel the least bit motivated other than the pretending offer.

The silence happened, bouncing off the walls and against their armor, so heavy that it actually hurt. Out of the corner of his optics, Optimus saw the multiple colored stripes on the Warlord's wrist and boldly asked, "And how, if I may ask, did you get your markings?"

Megatron made some sort of growling noise before saying, "That should be obvious."

"It is," Optimus admitted and felt the motion of the decepticon's helm turning to look at him. He didn't feel all that impressed really, just simply looking back at him and further explaining, "But the one thing I do not understand is the bottom stripe."

Megatron looked at his wrist, the half empty energon cube sloshing back and forth as he moved his servo. The stripes on his wrist were always admirable- all except the bottom one. The _purple_ one. He stared for a minute, closed his optics and lowered his helm, servo resting on his thigh.

"Sometimes when you are the most wanted mech alive, even lovers will lie their way through the counsel and betray your trust just to receive a few extra credits," Megatron said in one of the most betrayed, hurt and confined tones Optimus had ever heard.

It made the prime's spark feel as if it were gargling on its own slue of emotions. He looked at Megatron, optics narrowed upwardly with an empathetic frown. "Are you saying that... you did nothing to them?" he asked.

Megatron hummed, turning and giving the autobot a brief glare, "And why would _you_ have any reason to believe me?"

"Because I too have been through the same experience," Optimus lifted up his own wrist.

Megatron sat up, that same scowl set upon his face plates, burning and oozing. He sat down his energon cube and said strictly, "What we have been through is nothing alike. You know _nothing_ , Optimus Prime, I have been through more than you ever have in your entire puny, pathetic autobot life."

Optimus felt rising anger and sudden... _pain_ inside his spark. "And how would you know?" he said in his usual defending tone, optics squinting in that hurtful, angry way, "My greatest most trusted ally would not listen to me or even trust my own word when I tried to make it count. Instead of mercy, he sent me here _knowing_ what my fate would be like with you, with the decepticon Inmates and the guards. You say that I do not know pain. I _do_ know pain. I know it as well as a best friend because, as of right now, it is my _only_ friend."

Optimus stood up, nearly crushing his energon cube as he bought it to his sore, damaged lips. His servos shook in the forgotten despair and loneliness making it all the more difficult to balance. He took a drink, trying to ignore the intense stinging in his optics as the forbidden world outside continued to silently lash out at him. Screw this place, screw the guards, screw the inmates and the work hours. Screw his seal, his sanity and pride. He'd already lost it. What else is there to lose?

Optimus could hear Megatron standing up and only turned more toward the wall, trying to hide his external pain. He didn't need that brute seeing him like this. The last thing he wanted was to be called names or receive mean comments. He just didn't feel like it.

But suddenly Optimus felt a familiar, warm servo grab his own, very gently. Another one took the energon cube and sat it aside before returning to his arm. Abandoned in the hurt and pain, Optimus didn't fight back as Megatron slowly turned him around and lightly pushed him against the wall with only the slightest noticeable pressure. He was too upset to look up so he allowed that large servo to grip his chin and lift his helm.

Sad blue optics met emotionless red ones, and a sparkle happened. So silent they were, and yet their bodies somehow managed to hear and listen to each others emotional outbursts and screams from inside their protective armor. It was a tragic mental war, but one they could not ignore.

Optimus felt his spark do something when Megatron pressed his servo against the wall, intersecting their digits and holding securely. Those blood red optics burrowed into his own before moving closer, their olfactory sensors millimeters apart. Ventilations ghosted before coming together and sharing.

And Optimus's optics closed when their lips made contact with the smallest little clank.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6, WOO-WOO! I'm tired now ^~^
> 
> Fun fact for ya'll: Optimus's real nickname was suppose to be 'bumpkin' but when the accident of misunderstanding happened, it was already too late. But blumpkin is just as good.... ish. Just don't make the same mistakes I did and... 
> 
> Sit back, read, enjoy, like, comment, fall asleep or do whatever floats your boat!

Terror and confusion. That was all he could feel as a large servo cupped the side of his face, thumb tracing soft, smooth circles over his jaw as warm metal lips pressed completely against his own. It made him want to tremble as he expected to be forced, pressured or possibly hurt. It wasn't like Megatron _wasn't_ thinking about it....

Optimus stayed tense, bracing for a turn of events, a bite or even a slap across the face. But felt none. Those lips vibrated with the steady rumble of Megatron's powerful chassis causing him to gap. The openness allowing that bigger set of plump lips to easily intersect with his own and a small sucking happened.

Optimus used his free servo to place against Megatron's warm chassis with the intention of pushing him away if he decided to go too far. But the way the Warlord was kissing him, holding his servo and stroking his cheek felt so... realistic. Like the one thing Optimus wanted but never thought he'd ever get. The feelings and attentions of a true lover.

But how could he think such a thing?

Megatron was a decepticon. The worst one in fact. All he wanted out of this was a rise to his own pleasure and advantages. It meant nothing to him.

Optimus was about to push him away to save himself from becoming a naive, wanting, hopeless fool, but suddenly that frame pushed more against him and a slick, burning wetness swiped his upper lip. Unable to help himself or perhaps not wanting to, Optimus made a small noise and followed that glossa as it slowly worked across his lips.

Megatron definitely was enjoying himself, but he had to remember the exact stance Optimus was in. They might have been feisty with each other a few moments ago, but that short amount of time felt like years, and now all that mattered was right now. Their emotional imbalance making things both tricky and smooth.

Megatron angled his helm and pulled Optimus's bottom lip carefully into his own mouth, massaging the sore metal with his glossa and warm oral fluids. And in doing these actions earned him the most audio pleasing moan from the trembling prime in front of him. So perfect. Megatron let go with a little suckle sound while guiding Optimus's servos to his neck before repositioning his own at his waist and lower back.

Optimus allowed it all, his processor so washed over with this unexplainable warmth that had even his spark fluttering with a rush of excitement and some other emotion he couldn't explain. Other than the downside that it was _Megatron_ and probably all fake, it felt good. Optimus's optics remained half lidded when their lips were pressed back together again, his servos tightening around that strong neck.

Megatron licked over the prime's soft, pretty lips before slowly beginning to push in. He felt a gasp happen and rubbed reassuring patterns up and down the autobot’s back while continuing his more important, wet ministrations up above. Penatrateing past the single barrier, Megatron’s optics widened at the taste of energon and Optimus Prime. Ohhhh Primussss.

Megatron about lost it. He gripped the prime harder and turned his helm, exploring his mouth like he was a sparkling trying to lick out the sweet energon that was still trapped in the wrapper. The taste, the scent and the feeling was so enticing and wonderful. Megatron never wanted to stop.

Optimus moaned again, his optics closing as his back arched, chest hitting and rubbing against the mech in front of him. He held on tighter, pressing back and muffling the most assured sounds of desire and lust. Who knew Megatron’s kiss could feel so _good_?! Their glossas pressed together and slid making the metal slicken, oral fluids running out and mixing. The tastes only heightening their fixations.

Megatron growled in absolute bliss at the gorgeous display and feel of the prime getting restless and bothered. He continued to lick, kiss and suck, his big arms wrapping tight around the smaller mech and pulling him closer.

"Mmf!" Optimus pulled away and grunted, his helm tilting back against the wall while he tried cycling his ventilations, cooling himself down. And, if it was even possible, he pulled Megatron closer, not knowing why or how this was happening. It shouldn't be happening, he shouldn't be liking this but it was as if the decepticon had some kind of a spell over him, hooking him with his gentle explorations and warm embrace.

Not even close to having enough, Megatron bent down and kissed the prime's gapped lips, down his chin and across his flushed cheeks. Giving everything in his reach a quick press of his lips before returning to those wonderfully addictive lips and smooching. The autobot moaning so sweetly against his mouth.

The closeness of their bodies was a cage and the seal of their lips was the lock to that cage.

And as amazing and enhancing as the moment was, it was shattered when the lock to the cell door was being turned.

With one more lick, Megatron released Optimus and stepped away, spark thundering within his chest. Optimus made a grunt of either aggravation or utter abandon when the mech left him as a near panting mess in the corner. His cheeks, his servos, his face, his _body_ all felt like boiling energon had been injected straight into his lines, giving him this uncomfortable flow and impatient rush of adrenalin.

As the guards opened the door back up, Megatron spared Optimus one more look before stepping forward to exit the cell, pretending like nothing happened.

From there on, Optimus understood that their game was beginning. No matter how humiliating or awkward, he had to play along. Having Megatron pretend to harass him with unknown consent was much better than being molested without the consent at all.

Optimus watched as Megatron passed through the doors, the guards not even acknowledging his presence with rude comments or rough shoving. The sight leaked a truth, a truth that meant that what Megatron said was true. Not even the top notch guards dared to push him. Jealousy and admiration could be felt and it made Optimus feel even more strangled.

"On ya go, Blumpkin," One of the guards pointed the way down the hall, "It's courtyard time."

"So get on out there and behave your little self," the other guard crossed his arms as he eyed the supposedly _violent_ prime. The medical case completely forgotten.

Still in a haze from the enchanting kiss, Optimus nodded and began heading toward the door. "We trust you know the way," he heard the guards say and nodded once again.

Optimus was in such a spiraling mess on the inside that he felt as if there were no ground beneath his peds. The newly made memory was already stewing in a most wonderful way inside his processor. That kiss... Primus, he didn't know how to explain it. It made him feel things, things he never thought he could ever feel.

The shame, the disgust, the longing, the lust. It was a gentle rainy storm with a blast of arguing winds both freezing and warm. He couldn't shake it even though he wanted to. Megatron was the slagger who started the war, killed thousands and hurt millions, he was cruel, evil, loveless and untrustworthy. And yet... Optimus had never felt so secure and magnified in his life.

Walking down the hall, Optimus was finally lifted of his thoughts when he felt someone poke him on his left shoulder. Turning his head back, he squinted his optics when he saw that no one was there. Confused, he then felt a tap on his right shoulder and quickly whipped around to face whoever it was that decided to bother him today.

"Hey, I just heard your nickname," a faceless smile and yellow, happy-go-lucky optic squinted happily and blue pinchers lifted in the space, "Blumpkin, huh? That's odd..."

Optimus vented out, not entirely upset. He liked Whirl although he was noisy and could sometimes be a little inappropriate. But oh well. At least he didn't talk dirty to him and distracted his anxious thoughts with his cheerful chatter.

But embarrassment did flounder, "Although the guards now have a habit of calling me that, may I ask that you do not?"

"What, call you 'blumpkin?'" Whirl asked as they walked side by side down the hall, "Sure! If ya don't want me to then I wont. But I don't know what to say about anyone else around this scrap joint. We all have nicknames- mines 'Termite.'"

Optimus's lip almost curled. He didn't know what 'termite' was but it obviously must have been either humiliating or insulting in _some_ way. His name definitely wasn't anything to spoon over. In the beginning, he didn't even know what his nickname meant until one of the inmates offered the job to him and he found out and frowned. Just _frowned_.

"We use to have a friend nicknamed 'bumpkin,'" Whirl explained as they entered the mess hall, not minding that Optimus was a quiet soul, and just chatting away, "His real name was Skids, but he escaped a long time ago- that lucky fool.…"

"How did he escape?" Optimus asked, his spark pulsing with interest and possible hope. He ignored the cat-calls and whistles as they were thrown at him from any sweepers or spare inmates who were cleaning the room.

Whirl laughed in the remembrance of his old friend and the experience they had had at this place together. "Skids was pretty and smart. He persuaded one of the guards, got into the vents and was never seen around this nightmare daydream again," he tapped his pinchers in triumph for his friend, "That's why Grindcore doubled their vents and security systems. Now no one can escape."

Great. Just great. Optimus kept from scolding himself into a spiral of pity before they even made it to the courtyard. He knew he wasn't suppose to be here, and he planned to find a way out, but this place was locked tight. Optimus couldn't even imagine an escape plan.

"Skids was fortunate," The prime said, the emotions of his spark contained deeply and hidden.

"Sure was," Whirl nodded, "Wish the idiot was still around- he was good at removing inhibitor spikes. Good thing I don't have a mouth, huh?"

Optimus looked over when Whirl gave him a light nudge with his elbow and smiled. He could at least offer some positivity towards his _only_ positive friend. But the apprehension did reappear when they made it to the big doors that led to the courtyard.

"Best place of the day," Whirl sarcastically remarked while looking out the tinted glass windows, "I don't know if I wanna stay with ya or just run silly because those inmates are gonna be _all_ over you. Especially the typhoon."

Optimus gave him a look of despair and sorrow, "Who is this 'typhoon?" He could understand if Whirl didn't want to be around him because he caused so much trouble, but he liked a friend who would explain the trouble to him. And apparently this typhoon mech was one of his spotlights.

Whirl snorted and put his claws on his hips. "You kiddin' me, right?" When Optimus shook his helm, he nearly sputtered, "Really?! You don't know him? You've been pounced by him like _three_ times now!"

Optimus continued to shake his head, silently stating that he didn't know the mech. He had been cornered like twenty times by several different inmates. Of course he didn't know who was who.

" _Typhoon Tarn_ ," Whirl drew out the words with his chirpy voice, gesturing to the big purple mech outside, "They call him that because he's one of the biggest aft holes around. Mostly new inmates get to spend the night with him. Glad I got Massacre Megatron and not that typhoon!"

Optimus almost shuddered at the mention of both Megatron and Tarn. It was hard to believe that one of the two most dangerous decepticon Inmates was actually willing to protect him from all the other ones. He wondered how it worked with Megatron while Tarn didn't really seem to be the caring nor generous type. Optimus must have just been lucky that Megatron thinks he's good enough to protect for some reason.

"Outta' my way, you bloody eejit!" a maroon mech with four optics pushed past Optimus and Whirl, out the door.

Whirl stumbled and hollered, "Hey, don't be such a choad!"

The mech turned around and growled, throwing his head forward and biting back an irritating pull. "Well that's a bit easy for ya to say, ya lil' bugger, I ain't got no privacy, no justice, no way tu' bloomin' crack my joints with a lil' frag every once in a while."

"Well maybe that's because you're so bloomin' spineless, Chop Shop," Whirl mimicked the other mech's accent and earned a fuming glare in return, "Why don't ya just go up to the little guy and ask if he wants to frag?"

"We ain't got no privacy, I said," Chop Shop barked.

Optimus simply stood by, watching and listening as the two mechs conversed. He was beginning to learn a few things and thought, besides his impolite attitude, Chop Shop wasn't too bad a mech. He was just a little... cranky.

"Privacy- shmivacy," Whirl waved it off and shrugged, "Just do it out in the open. No one 'round here gives a bolt."

"Nu' way in blimey Unicrons realm am I doin' that," Chop Shop protested sharply, pointing in the direction his crush stood.

Optimus followed Whirl a few steps out the doors to look in the direction the spider mech was pointing in. While Whirl caught on quickly, Optimus continued to search, not knowing exactly who they were talking about. There were tons of inmates wandering around. How on Cybertron was he suppose to know who they were talking about?

Just as Optimus was about to ask and offer possible advice, someone grabbed him by the shoulder and swiftly pulled him around. Instead of fear this time, _frustration_ was mostly what he felt when that servo guided him against the wall. But to his utter surprise, he wasn’t being groped, forced, or pressured.

"And what's a sweetspark like you doing here in Grindcore prison?" the towering mech asked in a very deep, vibrating voice that sent invisible shockwaves crawling up the autobot’s back strut.

Optimus had to keep from panicking as he looked up the mech's large blue and yellow chassis that was lined with red stripes here and there. He was big. Almost as big as Megatron. He had four optics and what almost seemed to be a second forehead but it was actually a part of his altmode which looked to be some kind of wild beast. And that smile...

"You okay?" the mech asked in what Optimus recognized as concern, that clawed servo squeezing his shoulder in this way that felt almost comforting.

"Yes," Optimus finally answered, bringing his thoughts back forward and shaking away his internal roller-coaster of emotional spasms, "I apologize, I did not expect for you to have..."

"No, I should be the one apologizing," the mech let Optimus's shoulder go and raised his servo up to explain himself, showing he meant no harm, "I should not have grabbed you like that, but I figured Termite and Choad over there must have been bothering you _if_ that look on your face was anything to go by."

Optimus felt relief and intimidation crash over him while looking up at the mech and standing so close to him. From where he was standing and with the decepticon’s impressive mass, Optimus was pretty unnoticeable to all the other inmates. And in his trance, thinking that he might have made a new, intelligent friend, Optimus almost entirely forgot about Megatron.

"What is your name?" Optimus asked, his spark surging to know.

"Deathsaurus," the decepticon answered, a eased, calming look in his red optics. He leaned against the wall, seemingly relaxed and happily concentrated on the autobot in front of him, "You?"

"Optimus Prime," Optimus swallowed down any wheezing or cracking his throat wanted to betray him with, and used his usual proud demeanor to talk appropriately to this mech. He might be big and scary, but he was down right gorgeous and had the most alluring facade.

"A _prime_ ," Deathsaurus exclaimed with a hum, making a slightly shocked face before nodding, "And how'd you get here?"

Optimus looked away, biting his lip for a split second and keeping his shame hidden, "I blew up the Academy Center..."

There was a slight pause and a lingering silence before claws reached out to lightly cup Optimus's chin and make him look up. "It's nothing to be ashamed of," Deathsaurus whispered in empathy, using his thumb to stroke over the tiny bruise on the bot's lower lip, "You didn't kill anyone."

Optimus didn't know what to feel in this situation. It was almost like when Megatron had pushed him against the wall except a little less frightening and a little more comfortable. But unlike Megatron, it wasn't intimidating because of _who_ Deathsaurus was, but because of how charming he was and the way he was treating Optimus. Persuasive.

"I injured my ally," Optimus said, his voice still soft and shameful.

Deathsaurus slowly released his chin and looked to the side, "So had I... But sometimes you must escape the atmosphere you live in to make a bold sacrifice every once in a while."

Optimus looked down at the mech's wrist and saw the orange and black stripes and kept from frowning. Most decepticons had black stripes. It was to be expected. But at least he didn't have the purple stripe....

"I understand," Optimus said, not knowing what else to say. He couldn't necessarily _lie,_ but he couldn't tell the truth either, so it was difficult. Even with Deathsaurus, Optimus didn't think he'd understand him or what had happened.

"So," Deathsaurus showed off a most attractive smile, "How's your stay so far?"

Optimus almost snorted, "It is anything but pleasant."

"I can understand that. With a sweetspark such as yourself walking around _this_ place, nothing could be pleasant," Deathsaurus agreed, giving Optimus's slim body a quick scan of his optics, ventilations growing hotter, "And these inmates... They don't know when to stop."

Not too far away from where Whirl had drug Chop Shop off to, Megatron stood by, watching from across the courtyard as the autobot and decepticon conversed. He stood casually; proud and tall as always, just simply witnessing the show unfold from the afar.

Starscream came walking up, stopping beside his leader and looking back and forth between him and the prime, glaring. "Are you just going to keep standing there while your frag toy gets fragged?" he hissed with distaste.

Megatron hardly acknowledged his second in command, continuing his innocent stalking. "Optimus Prime is smarter than you believe, my dear Starscream," his voice even had a certain serenity to it, "And we both know that Deathsaurus is closer to Tarn than anyone else. But his tricks lack the correct significance and persuasion."

"Have the work hours finally gotten to that melodramatic processor of yours, or are you just so blind that you do not realize that Optimus Prime is an _autobot_?" Starscream ground his denta, making it sound like his leader was a witless and blithe fool.

"If I can remember correctly, Starscream, there was a time when you envied this melodramatic processor?" Megatron might have teased and he might not have teased. Starscream didn't know. And it sure had him shaken up.

"Yeah, but that was before!..." Starscream rose his digit in the space but halted before he could force the rest out. Instead of bringing the past topic back up, he lowered his servo and sighed in aggravation.

"Precisely," Megatron gave his dear second in command a look of pity before returning his focus back upon the distant prime. "Optimus Prime is in line for the exact same experience. Worst of all, he has been cornered by Deathsaurus. His tricks always falter.... ' _Why don't we go somewhere more special and... private?_ '"

Optimus was to the point his cheeks were almost tinting with heat. Talking to Deathsaurus was like a experience he had never had. The charming mech knew just what to say and how to say it. Optimus was to the point he no longer felt alarmed. Other decepticon Inmates who had tried to barge in were easily dismissed by this stick of dynamite standing in front of him.

"I never would have gotten out in time," Deathsaurus finished telling a story about how he _supposedly_ saved a bunch of mechs from a collapsing mine.

Optimus had listened with content. Hardly any mechs could ever impress him, but this mech had just the right hooks. And he found himself wanting to know more, to talk more, to sit and listen. Although they weren't exactly talking about anything personal, it was still nice to lay low and just be able to converse without any awkward silence or misunderstandings. Plus, stories were always interesting to listen to, and took his processor off all the bad things around them.

Like _him_.

"Hey Deathsaurus," Helex walked up and was immediately drawn to the perfectly untouched dinner plate before them, "Just getting yourself a little lunch?"

Optimus then felt very insecure and stiff, taking a step away from the wall with the intention of walking past the two before something unnerving happened. He almost locked up when he felt another servo on his shoulder, turning slowly to look at whoever it was that was touching him. His denta digging into his glossa.

Deathsaurus looked over at the other decepticon and said sternly, "Helex, we were in the middle of a conversation."

"So?" Helex grimaced, "Since when do you care about the little autobot blumpkin?"

"Helex, I'm asking _nicely_ right now," Deathsaurus had warning in the tone in which he spoke, his optics wide.

Helex shifted, a little angry for being put off by one of his closest friends. He turned his head, giving Optimus a short look of fury before huffing. "Sure," he turned around, saying something in Cybertronian that Optimus did not catch, and then stomped off.

"Sorry you had to see that," Deathsaurus let go of Optimus's shoulder, "Helex can be... Impatient."

"His attitude is very disconcerting," Optimus said with a hint of defiance.

"That is only because he wants attention and will do anything in his power to get it," Deathsaurus bowed his head in the direction his stubborn friend walked off in.

Optimus allowed the tension to vanish and brought back up his own focus. "Please," he said kindly, forgetting the ordeal, "Continue your story."

"Certainly, but first..." Deathsaurus tilted his head and rumbled his engine, "Why don't you and I go somewhere a little bit more private and... _special_?"

Optimus had no time to think before he was shoved up against the wall, a servo pressed against his mouth to muffle his desperate protests.

"There he goes," Starscream said with a small nod, pursing his lips and shrugging from side to side.

Megatron watched, his fury, his anger, and his obsession all swarming to life inside his energon lines, lighting his processor on fire. But he still stayed calm, watching as other inmates began the rumor and started searching around. Some looked at him while others looked for Optimus Prime.

"Well?" Starscream looked up at the Warlord after seeing Deathsaurus pin Optimus's servos above his head.

Megatron still said nothing. His optics darkening with pure and utter demolition. He lowered his helm, his spark going from pounding to thrusting to _screaming_. But his appearance remained little to worry about. When Deathsaurus slapped Optimus, Megatron began walking. When he lifted Optimus on his hips, Megatron began stomping. And when he kissed him, Megatron grabbed him.

Deathsaurus yelled in pain when a large servo gripped his neck and crushed several of the sensitive wires that were there including a main energon line. He choked and shouted, releasing the autobot and reaching up to rip away that intruding servo.

Before anything could happen, Megatron used his other servo to dig into Deathsaurus' side. He dug in and tore out a large chunk of armor, wires, energon lines and important metal mesh. The scream that followed caught nearly everyones attention and inmates quickly began filing around.

Gripping the wailing mech by the neck, Megatron threw him to the side without so much as a second glance.

Looking forward, Optimus had slid to the ground, hiding his face with one servo and looking down. He was venting quickly, trying to stay hidden within his own hurt, betrayal and misery. He wanted to die. He really did. These first few days already being enough to engage him and drive him insane. He knew Megatron was looking at him, but he couldn't show his face just yet- not with the tears or the energon or the split mesh.

Knowing that something was wrong, Megatron knelt down and slowly lifted his servo out beside the prime who kept trying to shy away. This sent off alarms inside his spark and made his processor roar. "Optimus," he said in a no-nonsense tone, "Look at me."

Optimus didn't want to, but the old glitch _did_ just save him. Payment was annoying. With a quick wipe of his face, Optimus took in a deep intake and slowly lifted his head up. 

Megatron about blew up the whole damn prison.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 7, HURROO! HURROO! 
> 
> Also, a quick SHOUT OUT: I'm Irish (please don't make fun of me), so I might make a few mistakes with my writing. Please help me if you see a mistake. Constructive criticism and positive feedback only, please. Thank you for those that have helped, you all are awesome and I am very thankful for your support :) and as always... 
> 
> Sit back, read, enjoy, like, comment, fall asleep or do whatever floats your boat!

Optimus held his face while Megatron pressed gently on his shoulder, guiding him in the direction of Starscream and some other familiar faces he remembered seeing from yesterday. There was a horrible pain in his spark, a deep cutting pain that bled with betrayal, hurt and grief. His face burned with shame, misery, embarrassment, and the physical abuse made itself known quite well.

The energon leaked from the cuts, over his chin and down his chassis. And even though it was fresh energon, it felt colder than the most frigid part of Cybertron. Optimus tried to stay hidden like a wounded prey who already knew that he lost the battle but was still fighting anyway.

Inmates were watching and whispering, some looking afraid, some looking intimidated and some just flat out angry. The desire was gone. Most of the Inmates wouldn't dare to even try to jump in for the big grey mech might do the same thing to them.

Optimus hadn't seen much, but he knew that Helex and Tesarus had came over to help Deathsaurus. In just one glimpse, he knew the decepticon was fine; just a little woozy and bloody from the rough handling. Even in the rain of guilt, Optimus thought Megatron might have went possibly _too_ far, but he didn't feel like protesting now... He was too hurt.

After they arrived near the group, Megatron turned to Optimus and had him face him. "Let me see," he said firmly, yet he kept the level of demand lost to his tones to better express care towards the prime.

His servo shook at first, covered in energon and pressed tightly against his face, but Optimus managed to peel it away from the wound. He looked up at the Warlord, his face covered in pain and humiliation as he tried not to cower away. A growl was detected and he frowned, thinking that Megatron was probably just going to make fun of him and lecture his easily being manipulated.

"I can fix this," Megatron said calmly, lifting his servo and slowly reaching out for the wounded bot's face.

Three cuts. That's what he had. Optimus had three narrow cuts that started in the middle of his right cheek and angled toward his lips, the middle cut barely touching the corner of his mouth. It had happened when Deathsaurus slapped him for demanding to be released, and when he tried shaking away his kiss, he bit through his bottom lip.

Megatron could understand the tears. Most mechs who suffer quickly end up with a overwhelmed heating system, and their frame struggles to cool them down by any means necessary. Tears of washer fluids were from emotional pain. Tears of lubricant were for damage.

Optimus was shedding just a few lubricant tears, the pinkish liquid rolling down his face and almost sizzling against the hot surface of his cheeks. "Deathsaurus has extremely poor methods of manipulation," Megatron said in a blank voice while he dug out his personal cloth and folded it, "He even attempted to manipulate Starscream once, but failed miserably."

"I... I should have known," Optimus whispered, his servo sneaking back up to hold his face again, but a bigger, much darker servo stopped him and made him look up.

Megatron held that little servo while bringing up the soft cloth to very carefully wipe across the bot's wounded face. The soft fabric absorbed the energon and helped clean away the excess liquids. He saw those optics blinking a few times before widening and squinting with pain. Knowing what was the cause of pain, he didn't pull away until everything was cleaned up before handing the cloth to Optimus and kneeling down.

Albiet surprised and confused as to why Megatron was helping him and not just making fun of him, Optimus held the cloth in between his servos, fingering at the soft material. His engine rumbled softly as he tried focusing on it while shutting out all the bad surrounding him.

"Come here," Megatron waved a digit while pulling something out of his subspace.

Gazing down, Optimus saw that the grey decepticon had some sort of tool in his servo and recognized it immediately. "A medical welder?" he asked in surprise, shaking slightly as he began to kneel down.

Megatron hushed him so that no one else could hear. He knew that pretty much every Inmate was looking at them, but he didn't show how peeved it really made him, only concentrating on the one thing that was really important. He made sure to keep the prime's head forward, purposely putting them in a position where his back was to the other Inmates so that he wouldn't panic.

"The guards had given me the privilege of carrying my own medical tools since I do an extensive amount of damage when given the work to do so," Megatron explained while pressing the button on the medical welder. It was small with an electric fire system that ignited with the spark of metal. Medical officers usually use them to do minor welds in the field before they could get the wounded in for proper welding.

It kind of unsettled Optimus who shifted, not sure if he should try to get away or not. He didn't like the thought that Megatron went around doing so much damage that he literally had to clean up after himself because it'd get so bad. It was a thought that made his tank churn. He didn't want to be a major victim in this... But the bad thing is that he _already was_ a victim, and he was Megatrons.

Optimus, sitting on his knees in complete submission in front of the large, cruel Warlord, was trying to keep from shying away as a dark servo reached in and grabbed the left side of his face. Holding steady. It didn't hurt but it was firm, and he watched as the little welding device was lifted up toward his new wounds.

Megatron scowled, his recognition and spite so pumped that he was internally enraged to the point of wanting to hurt whoever walked by. However, he would repress his violent urges... For _now_. "Be still," his firm voice demanded calmly.

Optimus had every intention to believe that it would hurt-which it did- but not near as badly as he believed. He remained still as Megatron wanted, optics closing and shoulders tense as he felt the hot end of the welder come in contact with the lowest cut. It burned, the sensation drawing out streaks of pain from certain sensitive areas inside his head and face. The metal pooled in the slightest way that allowed the bleeding gap to close.

Megatron took back the cloth and wiped away any more energon or residue, being gentle as he finished on the first cut. "For now on I want you to remain with me at all times. This isn't Iacon, this is Grindcore Prison- specifically created for the worst decepticon Inmates. No one here can be trusted." He suddenly said while working on the second cut.

Optimus cracked open his optics, feeling an impossible amount of pain surge further inside him. "And what does that say about you?" he asked softly, making sure not to interrupt the welding process.

"We are pretending and that is all," Megatron's optics remained fixed on his work as he spoke, his servo now going from gripping to just simply holding the other side of the bot's warm face, thumb stroking his smooth cheek, "The impression will turn down all the other Inmates. Soon their desires will diminish and you will be able to walk around freely."

"I highly doubt that," Optimus admitted, optics closing once again, this time in shame, "What you have spoken is true. I have no authority here."

Megatron stopped on the last cut and waited a moment, as if he were lost or just so transfixed that he didn't know that anything else was real. "Me," he said, the word barely above a mumble as he got back to his work.

"You?" Optimus's optics opened wider to this, his spark pulsing quickly as he wondered, "I have you?"

Megatron answered with a simple humming noise that obviously meant, "Yes."

And Optimus wasn't quite sure as to how it was possible, but just that little phrase made his spark warm so viciously that he had to hold back a whimper. He loosened his clenching fists and relaxed his shoulders, feeling like he could melt into Megatron and never be touched again.

But he was so naive.

Optimus had to remember what Megatron said: they were only pretending. The kiss, the touches, the kindness, the care- This whole affectionate display was _fake_. It meant absolutely nothing to Megatron. He was just another worthless, little autobot who invaded in on his space and would soon be passed away and forgotten. Optimus wasn't even sure if he could keep doing this. After being abandoned to such a cruel place where he had no friends or beloved ones, he was desperate for comfort from anything and anyone. And Megatron just happened to be really easy to wanna fall into.

His confident demeanor drooped along with his shoulders and helm. Optimus tried not to sigh, feeling all his hopes die.

Megatron finished mending the cuts and leaned back, examining his work... Not bad. The cuts were closed tightly and seemed to be pretty unnoticeable from far away distances. Sure they stuck out, but Optimus could buff it out whenever he goes home.

Optics shifting downward to the prime's bruised, damaged lips, Megatron felt that ping of rage rerurn. He couldn't weld lip plates- that would hurt too bad. But he could _sooth_ it....

"Stay here," Megatron subspaced his tools when he noticed the guards looking for him, "Don't move."

Optimus almost made a sharp protest at that. He didn't want to be left alone! Someone else would come by and either jump him or pursade and then jump him. And he didn't want that!

Reaching up, Optimus laid his servo over the mended cuts and felt all his heat vanishing. Besides the slight sting from the fresh medical welding, all the rest of the pain had gone away. He looked back, seeing that all the Inmates were watching Megatron as he stomped over to the guards who tapped their peds at him.

It was almost funny how Megatron shrugged like a little kid at them, pretending like what he did was totally worth it and didn't matter. He just stood there and explained what happened.

Optimus downcast his optics and leaned back against the steel wall, holding his face and trying to keep a low profile. He thought that at any moment someone would come along and try to do something to him. And he waited for the pain and frustration to begin anytime.

But everyone seemed to be staying back, only staring and watching him like the delicious dinner plate he was.

Optimus wondered how he could process even the tiniest amount of trust towards Megatron. He really shouldn't be giving in so easily, but deep down he knew _something_ although he didn't know quite what. It was something he'd just have to dig out in time, he supposed. And yet time seemed to go by slower in days than it did in years, and Optimus found himself feeling trapped for more than a century.

Megatron was just another mean, cruel, rough decepticon, and sure he seemed to be against rape but what about everything else? The violence, the kidnapping, the murder. All the things that he's not a shamed to admit with pride that he's done. How could Optimus fall into those energon stained servos when he himself knew what Megatron had done?

Temporarily alone with his scattered thoughts, Optimus looked up at the endless blue sky, optics blinking at the morning suns and fluttering. He hadn't been here long, but home sickness was more toxic than the Inmates he saw fragging each other all across the courtyard. He missed the moon, sightings of other planets, the distant geosphere and beautiful bright stars at night. But he knew, with his schedule, that he would never be able to see the stars again... At least not until he's out of prison.

But by that time, it wouldn't matter anymore.

"I have every reason to believe that Deathsaurus will choose his actions wisely the next time he attempts to peruse you," Megatron's own deep voice of leadership spoke making the autobot jostle, "Other Inmates are restraining themselves more competitively now."

"It must be working then," Optimus admitted in a soft tone, trying to keep his optics averted while leaning back against the wall, knees drawn, face covered and servos squeezing the tense armor of his shoulders and arms.

Megatron made a noise of agreement and moved in beside Optimus, completely inviting himself into his personal space and sitting down. He hid a smirk when the prime immediately flashed a look of surprise and confusion at him, acting as if he would scoot away before Megatron snuck one big arm around him and pulled him closer to his own rumbling frame.

Optimus had to physically bite back a yelp, being pulled closer to the dangerous warlord until their thighs touched and his entire side pressed into the bigger mech's side and chest. That large arm keeping him pinned gently against that warm, strong, comfortable frame. Optimus had to blink numerous times to keep from internally panicking, helm tilting way back to look into those red optics.

"Do you not wish to pretend?" Megatron asked like he wouldn't mind letting the autobot go if that is what he wanted.

Optimus's vents did a little whirl and he opened and closed his mouth once or twice, trying to find his voice. He did want to pretend but he didn't want to be _hurt_ either... It was confusing. He was trying to pretend to be Megatron’s play toy to keep from being hurt by all the other Inmates and yet he was afraid he'd be hurt by Megatron himself. Difficult. He was toppling here.

"I do," Optimus said in a quiet tone, his frame tensing as he thought Megatron might take his consent to his advantage.

But Megatron didn't.

The old warlord simply relaxed back against the steel wall, holding Optimus against him and rubbing his arm and upper back gently. There was no pressure, no force and no sign of lashing out at any unknown moments. Megatron watched all the other Inmates and how they communicated, wishing the little autobot would just calm down and relax against him.

"Decepticons never use to be this way," Megatron's disappointed voice suddenly changed the subject.

It made Optimus look up at him, frown flat and unhappy on his face, his body slumping in the slightest way that came close to disappointment as well. He observed those red optics and how Megatron's brow plates slanted inwardly to express the betrayal and resentment he felt towards his men and this prison.

"Being here has taught me what exactly my followers are capable of doing, and by the Allspark... I never imagined it would be like this- this vial, sick perversion that has been brought out in them by this dreadful place," Megatron's voice lowered and he glared, yet his grip on the autobot remained gentle, "I admit that part of their repulsive behavior had been caused by the tyrant I once was, but most of it is to blame on the guards."

Optimus felt sympathy and shock wash over him as he stared at the Warlord beside him, body leaning into his hold unknowingly. "What exactly have the guards done?" it was a stupid question, but he wanted to know for sure.

Megatron turned his helm and gave the bot a small scowl that was meant for something else, "The guards are the ones who provoked my decepticon followers attitudes and made them more inclined to violence and even rape. They were the ones who would not grant mercy or pity, pushing my followers more and more everyday. Soon, the guards grew accustomed to new measures of torture such as forced interfacing, beating and starvation... Decepticons had also grown accustomed to it."

Optimus lowered his helm, feeling a wave of pity roll over him, his spark tugging in the Warlord's direction. "That is a shame," he said lowly, not even knowing that he said it really, but just feeling the need to, "I am sorry."

Megatron's grip on the prime tightened faintly and he had the very urge to pull him into his lap, feel his heat, share their warmth and raise their temperatures. He wanted to caress that beautiful body in every way that mattered, stroke those audio fins, kiss those lips, hold those servos and whisper long, endless nothings to the prime who trembled during his ministrations. He wanted to say that it was _okay_ , that he wouldn't have to worry, that he could be able to trust him without ever havening to worry again.

Spark beat steady, Megatron looked down at the prime and saw his scratched and cracked palms, feeling remorse and disapproval course through him. "When you have returned to your work schedule, ask the guards for magnets," he informed while using his free servo to carefully grab one of Optimus's own.

"What for?" The prime asked, watching as that large black servo grabbed his and began stroking his very sore palms. It hurt like a bruise, but for the most part Optimus found it to be very comforting. And for some reason... He wanted more.

"Magnets will allow you better leverage and keep your servos from bleeding," Megatron explained, giving that sore palm a few more gentle caresses before moving to the other one, "If the guards protest, I will give you my own."

Optimus felt surprised at this, wanting to whimper as Megatron massaged his palms in the most expert manner that made his fans crackle with tingly electricity. "Why would you give me yours?" he asked, suspicious and confused.

"Because I have authority," Megatron answered simply, feeling those little fingers gripping his servo or stretching out for more attention. It made his tank rumble with satisfaction and a small triumphing.

Optimus couldn't work himself to feel jealous. Instead, he felt _envious_. And he really didn't know why. He couldn't place a finger on it, but Megatron made him feel this certain way, this certain way that made him feel special and cared for. It was like being the most disgarded piece of Cybertron, treated badly in so many ways and yet still treasured.

But what was he _THINKING!?_

Megatron is Megatron; a Warlord, a tyrant, an uncaring, cruel, mean, treacherous decepticon.

Optimus meant nothing to him.

As Megatron continued to hold and rub Optimus's servos, he smirked as the prime began to drift off into recharge in his arms. It made the decepticon lord pulse with pride for being able to submit the prime as so. He held him protectively, giving his helm a few gentle caresses every now and then, rubbing his finials and pulling him close enough to feel his light ventilations on his chassis.

It was beautiful. Even if there were loads of commenting Inmates watching them, it didn't matter.

"Lord Megatron," Cyclonus quietly walked up, his helm lowered and optics darkened in this way that made Megatron's tank turn, "We need to talk about... I believe you know."

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote chapter eight so that I could draw the relationship out more. I just didn't like how the first chapter eight went, so I rearranged it a little bit. Hope some of you don't mind. 
> 
> Sit back, read, enjoy, like, comment, fall asleep or do whatever floats your boat.

Thankfully Megatron had been able to untangle the sleepy prime from him and helped to lean him against the wall, uninterrupted, before asking Cyclonus to stay close to him while he dealt with business. His processor stewed as well did his pulsing energon lines, his optics dark and focused as he searched for that treacherous fool. This was something that hadn't been brought up in a long, long time, and it made the tiniest amount of concern course through the old warlord.

Megatron walked along the wall, seeing Starscream huddled up on himself as if he had just been severely hurt. It reminded him of Optimus's incident just not too long ago, which only made his tanks fire with outrage. The warlord made his way past a looming Skywarp and Soundwave before stopping upon the cowering seeker.

"Starscream...?" Megatron's voice was softer than normal, and he reached a slow, attentive servo out towards his second in command.

"Don't," Starscream turned around and grabbed either sides of his own arms, trying to keep his helm lowered as he whispered, "Just _don't_."

"What did he say to you?" Megatron asked, his voice still gentle but added to it was the hidden concern, wrath and firmness.

Starscream's optics stared down at the area between his peds, his wings brought as close to his back in protection as he could get them. He was shaking in the faintest way that wouldn't be noticeable to anyone, but he knew, sadly, that Megatron could tell something was wrong. In what ways, he did not want to say.

"Starscream, answer me," Megatron pressed on, voice growing firmer. He had to admit, this was very unsettling. Starscream never was the shut down, quiet type that stood off in the corner and sulked without there being some intense, dark reason behind it.

So this was serious.

"Why would it matter to you... anymore?" Starscream vented in the lowest, saddest whisper that made even the silence shiver in apprehension. He tried hugging himself tighter, head lowered to the point his face almost disappeared into his arms. "You obviously have someone new. Why do I matter anymore?"

"Starscream, what happened between you and I was temporary- That had ended a long time ago," Megatron's authority voice addressed, "Although you do not believe me or are too stubborn to do so, you are still my second in command and I your leader- which means that it is my job to know."

Starscream huffed and continued to shrink in on himself, "Funny; that sounds like something Optimus Prime would say. Clearly you two are more connected than previously assumed." A silence that meant his wannabe joke was true made Starscream's spark stop beating, a thick, endless string of pain filling his chassis. It made him unconsciously frown, his screechy voice lost as he said, "He said that he... that he _missed_ me, a-and that he wanted... wanted to _talk_ to me."

Megatron froze at the information, his processor stopping as well. "He's taunting you," he said in a voice that came close to apathy, "He's trying to weaken me as well."

Looking across the courtyard, Megatron searched for the traitor who was trying to mix him up and pull him in. He didn't necessarily like Starscream anymore, but he did care about him although he wouldn't admit it. And now that sneaky fragger was on the run to try and screw with his relationships. This was bad.

This was really bad.

Megatron looked over at the prime who was still recharging peacefully, untouched and left alone under the watch of Cyclonus. It made him sigh. There was nothing left for Starscream inside his spark, and so... "I want you to stay close to Dreadwing and Breakdown for here on out," Megatron stated to his second in command, "Don't do anything by yourself and do not get into any fights, Starscream."

Starscream turned his helm and gave his leader a snooty face, lips pouting. "I don't need baby-sitters," he mumbled half angrily.

"You need protection, Starscream," Megatron snapped, and he was even more concerned that Starscream didn't even wince, "You cannot win against him, and I cannot help you this time."

"Then why are you still trying to protect me when you clearly don't care anymore?" Starscream looked away, optics heavy and full of shame, "It's just a misconception. It always has been. You don't have to keep _pretending_ , Megatron."

Starscream's closed tension broke and he stood straight, snuffing past Megatron and fluttering his wings. Stopping for a brief moment, he turned and gave Megatron a ridiculous look, "Just tell him the truth already.... That way we can _all_ be happy."

At that, Megatron watched as Starscream walked away, the words he spoke staying inside his head. Such a stubborn seeker. What was he going to do with him?

"He has a point," someone said with a low, disappointed voice, "This will only continue to happen if Optimus Prime is not properly conveyed, and more than just Starscream will be cornered."

Megatron wanted to growl. He wanted to blow all his pent up hatred and spite out at the world. _This_ world. This cruel, disgraceful, utterly abandoned in lies, world. He wasn't necessarily any better than the world itself, but unlike the world, he had _control_. He had authority and he had control which meant that he could do something. He could fix this.

"I know," Megatron replied grumpily.

Cyclonus nodded, believing his lord, but still feeling the need to point it out. "I believe you, Lord Megatron, but I would like you to take a look around for a moment," He gestured to the rest of the courtyard, "Inmates, not just Starscream, are beginning to be cornered because their desire to dominate and claim Optimus Prime has become so expansive. And with you protecting him in the fashion that you are, any other ruthless Inmates are growing jealous, and are taking their desires out on anyone they can."

It was disgusting, but true. And the truth hurt. It hurt like a cutting knife. Megatron tried not to show his shamed and grossed emotions toward the conflict as he turned around to face the purple mech. He didn't look up yet, too engrossed in his own demise to think straight. He knew what was going on, he contemplated it, and his predicaments came true.

Decepticon Inmates were growing crazy now that Optimus (a young, attractive, autobot prime who still had his seal) was walking innocently about their territory and they can't do anything about it because Megatron keeps them back, so they resign to torturing each other and causing more mishap for the prison and one other.

Megatron had to make his decisions fast. "Your theory is noted," he said to Cyclonus who never smiled anymore. His face, much like Megatrons, had become stained with shame and regret, the line of their mouths never moving upward much like the world should.

"And I want you to look at Starscream as well," Cyclonus looked over at the red seeker who was chatting with his purple wingmate, "See the similarities between him and Optimus Prime and think about it."

As Cyclonus turned and walked away, Megatron gazed at Starscream and then at Optimus. Red, white and blue armor. Yes, they were very similar. Any inmate would want to take advantage of that. Megatron would have to do something soon. He started with talking to Breakdown and Dreadwing, telling them to just keep an optic on Starscream and to tell him if anything happened.

* * *

 

The next day and a half seemed to have went by rather smoothly for Optimus who found himself not being molested as much. Especially during the work hours. Most mechs' who tried touching him, he would just look at them and they would know to back off. No one wanted to end up like poor Deathsaurus or Lockdown or Thunderhoof.

When Optimus got back from his work schedule that evening, he wasn't surprised to see that Megatron wasn't in their cell. Megatron _did_ work for ten hours everyday straight, plus he had courtyard and whatever relieving activity he had chosen to end his day with. That was a lot in just one day. But Optimus wouldn't complain. 

When Optimus woke up the next day, he _was_ shocked to see that Megatron wasn't there, and that his work schedule for this day was suddenly changed.

"You're causing a lot of _slag_ , blumpkin," A guard with a data pad growled at Optimus, his optics hateful as he glared at him, "Enough is enough, alright. We don't _put up_ with other Inmates slag for long around here."

"And what is it that I have done wrong?" Optimus asked as a few other guards put shackles on his wrists.

"Oh, well let's see," The guard named 'Steve' said in cheerful sarcasm while looking down at his data pad, "Causing unnecessary dramatic violence in the courtyard, making several Inmates ruthlessly fight over your pathetic complaints, and provoking a scene in the washracks. Is that enough or should I go over the rest of the slag you've done."

Optimus had been thoroughly shocked by the information. Dramatic violence? Complaints? A scene in the shower room? He didn't do any of that! That wasn't him. He would never....

 _Megatron_.

The realization downed upon Optimus who's shoulders slumped faintly, and his optics widened. The guards were blaming him for Megatron’s actions.

"Open up," Steve said while nodding at the other two guards.

Optimus looked at them in loss of his conscience as they moved in front of him. He didn't know exactly what they wanted him to do, him being too in shock and traumatized to properly think, but he did end up struggling once when they roughly grabbed him by the neck and pushed his head back.

One guard took advantage of Optimus's gapping mouth by pushing his thumb inside and pressing down on his glossa. The other guard held the Inmate still whilst allowing his partner to work.

 _Too_ close. Optimus's optics were facing the ceiling although he tried watching whatever it was that the guards were doing to him. He stayed still, finding it to be one of the most _irritating_ things in the world. The way that rough digit moved in his mouth and pressed against his glossa like that. Plus the _taste..._

"Told ya we didn't play nice around here," Steve said just about the time two digits plunged deep into the autobot’s mouth, temporarily causing him to gag as they felt around, "Now ya get three extra work cycles plus mess-hall duty, and the [inhibitor spike](https://tfwiki.net/wiki/Inhibitor_spike). And if _that's_ not good enough for ya, we also took the liberty of removing all your precious courtyard time so that way you don't have to play house with anyone else."

Optimus took it all in and did nothing. For there was nothing he could do. And that was enough.

"I found it, sir," the guard who was playing with his mouth confirmed to the boss.

"Splendid," Steve smiled joyfully while putting his servos together and taking a few steps forward, "Go a'head and tear it out, I don't think he'll mind."

Optimus was a little antsy about this, his servos curling into fists as he wondered strongly about what they were doing to him. He tensed when he felt those digits return to his mouth, instantly feeling across the roof of his mouth for _something_ until...

"I got it," the guard yanked a mainstream wire out of the roof of the Inmate's oral cavity. The action causing Optimus to jerk at the sudden pain.

"Good," Steve phrased to his men and lifted out a small disk to them, "Attach it firmly now."

"Yes sir," the guard handling Optimus took the device and shoved it into his mouth, shifting on his peds so that he was in a better position to use both his servos to reach into the Inmate's mouth. He grabbed the wire and plugged it into the disk before swiftly pressing it up against the roof of Optimus's mouth.

And in an instant, when the disk felt Optimus's energon, spikes poked out and sunk further into his robotic flesh. Optimus jerked heavily at the intense attack of pain, grunting and stepping back.

" _Yeah_ , not too comfortable now is it?" Steve laughed at the prime before him.

No. No it did not feel comfortable. It felt like miniature scraplets were biting up into his flesh, trying to puncture his oral protoform. And it _hurt_. Optimus hadn't felt anything like it. To round his guesses up, he'd say that the spikes went up into his mouth more than about two inches. And it did not feel good.

"You know something," Steve walked up in front of the taller mech, the other two guards stepping aside as the boss studied the prime, reaching up to grab him roughly by the cheeks, "I think this look suits you. Ugly, pathetic, weak... All of the things a prime _shouldn't_ be."

Optimus looked down at his red visor, not necessarily frowning but definitely not smiling either. The cruel hold on his jaw made it feel like his face was about to snap in half. His spark was wrenching apart even more, black holes filling in all the full spaces of his spark and leaving nothing but internal wounds.

Primus, what had he done to deserve this?

"And if I were you, I wouldn't try _talkin'_  too much, blumpkin," Steve slapped Optimus's cheek lightly, almost playfully before pulling away, "Something happens- assault for instance- and you try doing something, it'll set this little beauty off and spill all your brains everywhere."

Optimus had so many questions to ask, so many things to say and statements to make, but he couldn't risk killing himself because he tried reasoning with mechs who weren't going to listen. He just simply nodded, forcefully, optics buckling up with demise and hidden spite.

But he couldn't blame them.

Steve growled as the bot refused to do or say anything. And he'd stay and keep provoking him, but morning was arise and they needed to get him settled in. "Come on," he spat and turned around.

The guards from behind pushed on Optimus's shoulder and made him hurry to walk behind the leader. "Oh, and we shortened your energon rations so that way, if you _do_ try to fight, then you'll offline soon enough." Steve added courtly.

Wonderful. Optimus stormed with viscous emotion as he was lead through the many hallways of Grindcore prison. His spark lurching within his chest, his helm aching in pain from the mouth flower. It's like it was never enough. Never enough hate or punishment or anger. He was always treated like trash.

When they made it out the doors, Optimus was surprised by how... _cold_ it was outside. There were strange clouds off in the distance- heavy, dark looking clouds. And they appeared to be moving at a brisk pace, as if ready to drench the world below in acid rain.

It might have been alarming to him, but Optimus highly doubted that anyone else even noticed or cared. He couldn't say anything anyway, too afraid that the inhibitor spike would be triggered and shoot his processor out. It was all a set up. He couldn't try to remove the device, talk, transform or even defend himself.

He was helpless.

After faint-heartedly trying to ignore the offensive and/or disgusting comments coming from the guards, Optimus soon found himself shackled with the rest of the frantically working Inmates. He took a few seconds to stick his magnets on his servos, imagining Megatron in his head, before reaching down for his hammer.

"Now you stay put, blumpkin," Steve said demandingly and slapped Optimus on the upper back, "I will not hesitate to tie your aft up and throw you out in the courtyard."

Optimus kept from hissing at the new stinging sensation on his back, and nodded. Immediately swinging his hammer heavily forward on the growing crystal so that he could better ignore the society around him.

Then the time began. And it was tough.

Though the lack of scorching carbon dioxide in the atmosphere made things a lot cooler, Optimus was still very overwhelmed. He couldn't stop thinking about how everything was going right now. Megatron was protecting him, and sadly, Optimus needed him to _keep_ protecting him if he wanted to stay compliant. But yet for everything that Megatron had helped him with- all those times he had saved him- Optimus was now getting the blame for it all.

He wondered if Megatron knew. Would he care if he did know? Would he confess to the guards and tell them the truth? Or would he simply shoot his offer down and betray Optimus's faintly built trust towards him? Megatron would know that this- the mouth flower, the shackles, the extra work, the loss of fuel and inability to properly move- would happen if he _did_ confess, and quite frankly, Optimus couldn't believe that Megatron would confess for all that.

And Optimus was nothing to Megatron anyway... Just an inmate.

After an hour and a half, Optimus could hear the third set of sweepers coming in to clean the workers messes. For his better sake, and the fact that it was already working, Optimus pretended like they weren't there and just continued hammering. His joints beginning to creak and wince at the same constant workout.

"Hey there," A smooth voice filled Optimus's audios but he didn't recognize it, simply keeping his optics locked on his work.

When a servo laid on his shoulder, Optimus did stop momentarily to look back at whoever it was that had decided to bug him today. And the sheer mass and size of the towering mech before him almost made him drop his hammer in intimidation.

Overlord smirked down at the little mech, his gorgeously gleaming optics fully satisfied as he took the sight in. _Damn_ , this bot sure was something- so sculpted, so sweet, so handsome, so spike jacking sexy. It took all his effort _not_ to drool. The look on the smaller mech's face telling him exactly what he needed to know.

"You can take a break," Overlord mumbled and used his head to lightly gesture to all the other workers.

Optimus, on the brink of going into panic, had to forcefully tear his optics away from the large mech to look at the other workers. And sure enough, every single worker was either sitting down or making-out with a sweeper. But Optimus sure didn't want _partners_. Nuh-uh.

Overlord kept his engulfing servo on the prime's shoulder, surprisingly gentle as he stared down at him. "Guards say there's a storm coming," he looked up, feeling those cute, fearful optics returning to gaze upon his bulk, "Everyones taking a little break. Care to join me?"

Optimus could only blink. Ok... It was nice that Overlord seemed kind and gentle and he was _asking_ , but come on, he was _huge_! And Optimus wasn't really in the mood for majorly intense fragging right now. Especially not making-out.

To not seem rude, Optimus smiled at Overlord and shook his helm, shoulders lifting as he shuffled his hammer.

"No?" Overlord asked to make sure, watching as the bot shook his head once more. He shrugged himself and lifted his servo away from the bot's shoulder, his voice a soothing rumble, "That's alright, I understand. You've been through quite a lot, haven't you?"

Optimus almost pulled a ridiculous face. _Seriously?_  Smooch talk? Where was the force, the anger, the ' _hey imagine what my lips would feel like planted against your aft as I force you against the wall'_ stuff? This mech could not possibly think that he was dumb enough to fall into another sham, could he?

Optimus kept the faces and voiceless questions back and nodded to answer the big mech's question.

Overlord somewhat frowned and slowly lifted his servo to the smaller mech's face. He watched as those blue optics squinted in the most unnoticeable way, that helm seeming to wanna flinch away yet it stayed put, and those sad optics as they closed as if expecting pain. But Overlord brought none as he carefully, in the most feather weight way, brushed the underside of the mech's jaw and tilted his helm upward.

"That's real a shamed," Overlord mumbled and stroked over the scratch marks on Optimus's cheek, "No one should ever do something so cruel to someone so beautiful."

Optimus gapped. His cheek tingling from the gentle touch whilst his processor roared with bizarre emotion. What game was he playing? Like seriously? Doesn't he _know_ that these sweet touches and phrases weren't working?

But yet it was so easy to just wanna accept that it was genuine kindness.

Optimus ended up shaking his head again, turning it down as he felt those large servos move away. He was torn, once more, about another mech. Friend or foe? He did not know.

Overlord seemed to have magically sensed Optimus's feelings for he courtly turned around and began walking away, no cat-calls or ruthless demands in his quake.

Optimus was thankful for that, but he also felt a little bit bad. One possibly sincere mech he meets and he doesn't even _try_ to say anything. Gosh, how rude of him. Optimus shook his helm as he scolded himself. His attention, however, was soon taken by these little flakes of ice that were beginning to fall from the sky.

And as soon as Optimus looked up, someone shouted, "Ice storm!"

"Get inside!"

Then in an instant, the work yard was scrambled with mechs herding towards the doors like chickens. A wee bit meaner in behavior, but still cluttering.

Optimus was alerted very fast, the alarms ringing in through his audios as well as the screaming guards and Inmates. Ice storms were _bad_. Everyone needed to get inside _now_.

Optimus dropped his hammer and started running in the same direction as the other Inmates, but he came to a grinding hault when his lower leg caught on something. Desperately hurrying, he looked down and saw that the shackle on his leg was still attached to the steel pipes sticking out of the ground.

Ahh!

Optimus knelt down and tried yanking the titanium based chain off, but to none avail. The sprinkles of ice started turning into heavy, heavy sleet that poured down from the sky. _Acid_ sleet at that.

At the lack of results, Optimus looked back at the disappearing Inmates that were piling in front of the door, and tried reaching his arm out to wave, but no one saw him. They were all in too big of a hurry to get themselves inside before the acid sleet attacked them as well.

Optimus, in full panic mode, shot his optics up to the sky before he quickly reached back and grabbed his hammer, standing up and swinging it down on the pipe. It bent but it did not shatter so he tried again. Lifting the hammer way back and swinging it forward with all his might. And this time the chain broke off instead of the pipe.

And that was good enough.

Tossing the hammer aside, Optimus almost couldn't move from the acid frost that was beginning to melt into his gears, but he forced himself into a small sprint towards the doors. The acid sleet came down harder, the worst part only seconds away from hitting the alarmed prison.

All of the guards and _most_ of the Inmates had already safely made it inside the doors, but Optimus had only made it half way across the yard before being completely drenched in one of the coldest, heaviest, most toxic rain storms ever known in Cybertronian history.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 9- YEAH! Now it's time to.... Bring Back That _Lovin' Feelin'!_
> 
> Righteous!
> 
> So sit back, read, enjoy, like, comment, fall asleep or do whatever floats your boat!

When the warning alarms went off, signaling a bad storm or attack, Megatron hadn't been as off-put as everyone else. Things like this happened constantly; usually when a bad fight happened or if an inmate was trying to escape. Everyone would be sentenced back to their cells to wait until whatever was going on is figured out or stopped.

Megatron didn't have any problems getting back to his cell other than the recurring screech of other Inmates who wouldn't shut up about the storm. A storm, huh? That _was_ unusual. Megatron smirked. It looked like some poor, unfortunate autobots out there were about to be drenched in acid rain, and he was safe inside _their_ prison.

Serves them right.

But as Megatron arrived at his open cell, he was robbed of his satisfaction when he saw that Optimus Prime wasn't there. Hmm? Where would he be then? Last Megatron remembered, he was quietly woken up by the guards to go to courtyard, Optimus barely budging beside him, but he figured that the guards were just gonna do their daily check-up on the autobot or something.

So... _Where_ was Optimus?

To anyone who asked, Megatron would deny any concern he felt at the moment as he turned around and stuck his head out to look down the hall. Inmates were still eagerly sprinting around to assault each other once before scampering on to their cells, guards trying to shoo them away.

When Megatron caught sight of Steve- this halls primary guard assistant- he stepped out into the hallway and flagged him down. "Where is Optimus Prime?" he asked in his cold, cruel voice.

Steve, stopping his chasing down frantic inmates to give them a good whoopin', looked up at the Warlord with an unexpressed glare. "How am _I_ suppose to know? This halls so damn mixed up, I can't even knock the bolts out of anyone!" Steve answered before pointing the end of his whip up in warning at the bigger mech, "Speaking of which... Get back in your cell!"

Furious, Megatron reached forward and yanked the whipping device out of the little mech's servos and stepped dangerously close to him. Backing him up against the other wall and giving him the most viscous glare of a lifetime.

"I do not _have_ to be kind to you," he said in a rough growl, almost spitting the strangled words out, "So for the better of my sake and _yours_ , you'll tell me where Optimus Prime is."

"He was outside," Someone from down the hall said.

Megatron’s optics dimmed, the words filling his frozen processor with a rush of unexplainable emotions before his body clicked and he looked to the side. Overlord. "Outside _where_?" he asked, his tone so achingly serious that it made even the guards step away.

Poor Steve. He was in the midst of having a bodily oil leak and processor crash. Shaking violently.

Overlord pointed his thumb out behind him and said, "The work yard. Just saw him a few minutes ago."

Megatron’s optics widened, the alarm that defined personal danger warnings going off inside his head like someone screaming directly beside his audios. He dropped the whip and stepped away from the paralyzed guard, quickly making his way down the hall. He patted Overlord on the shoulder when he passed him, as a thanks for his good deeds, before resuming his task.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?"

"Get back in your cell!"

Megatron ignored all the warnings that were thrown at his back as he shoved his way through crowds of Inmates and pushed mechs aside. There was only one thing on his mind, and his instincts were overpowering him. Of course, he'd just try to label this feeling as mutual and a nuisance; something that he could totally control but just didn't want to. But the thing is... He _couldn't_ control it.

No. These feelings were far too strong, too powerful. Like his body had a mind of its own, causing his joints to lock up whenever he tried going in the wrong direction, or his spark would seem to sting itself if he tried ignoring it, and his processor felt physically and emotionally bashed in at all angles. Absolutely unhelpful.

Megatron had a strong, intelligent, impacted mind but there _were_ slippery things in there as well. Slippery things that were true facts, facts that only he knew, facts that were wrong and evil and right. It was confusing, yes, but that's why he was doing this.

To embrace those slippery thoughts and also... A few _other_ things as well.

After getting past the herd of Inmates and guards, not even hearing all of the complaints and demands from behind, Megatron finally found himself before the doors that led outside. And just by looking out the tiny barred window at the top of the door, he knew that it was _bad_ outside.

Acid ice and sleet covered the grounds thoroughly, eight inches and growing with every passing minute. The fuming clouds were dark, pitch grey and black like himself, raining its pain and despair down below. The winds were bad, extremely bad.

Going outside would not be a smart idea.

He would have to wait. Acid sleet was actually better than acid rain because it was solid and froze quickly; that way most of the threatening substances didn't get into important seams and damage circuitry. And the storms never lasted more than ten minutes.

It had already been six minutes. Megatron could wait although impatient and very frustrated. It was hard to believe that he was in this position because of a little accident and misunderstanding,

To occupy himself, Megatron looked back outside the small window, trying to see if he could spot Optimus. The sleet was still pouring down, leaving more than a mountain of snow and ice to climb through. Megatron’s spark pulsed in an almost excited way when he spotted something red off towards the right.

Keeping an optic on the figure, Megatron got ready to open the door until he noticed that it was _not_ Optimus, but a small guard who had trapped himself beneath an upturned table.

Growling angrily to himself, Megatron huffed and looked back into the snowy yard. He fell into a small routine of looking forward and looking back, trying to think past his nervous breakdown... Could this be? Was Megatron actually _anxious?_

What a pitiful thought. Megatron tried to keep it away as he told himself that this was his choosing. He was _choosing_ to do this.

When the acid sleet turned into little flakes of snow, Megatron effortlessly yanked the door open and was immediately blasted with cold wind. But no bother. Antifreeze was one humanly gift he had no problem with admitting worked spectacularly.

Walking outside into the freezing wasteland, Megatron stepped through the loud, rough crunch of ice and snow, so deep, it built up his legs and knees. He squeezed his armor tightly together in order of keeping the acid liquid out of reach of his fragile, more vulnerable protoform. Looking around for the prime.

The whole area was white and blue with ice and snow, the metal bars all creaking in distress. It was like being in a horror film, never knowing what atrocities would stumble out of the hidden darkness.

Megatron had looked around the work yard, noting all the icicles that were hanging down from the fences and bars. There weren't any other bodies that he could see, but there was a lump just beneath the snow in the middle of the yard. Megatron’s optics focused intently on the lifted snow, moving faster.

Keeling down, something inside Megatron seemed to have screamed out in pure outrage and fury as if he already knew that Optimus was under there. And when he reached in and moved his servo back and forth, wiping the many layers of snow and ice away, the familiarity was almost too much to take in.

Frozen, Optimus Prime laid there in the snow on his front, arms barely outstretched like he had tried crawling, and his face barely visible through his arms. His system seemed as silent as the now clear atmosphere, and his body just as limp as the ice around him.

It drove Megatron to a whole new level of insane. He knelt down and moved his servos down the length of the prime's body until he got to his sides. The armor freezing beneath his palms. Megatron pulled Optimus out of the snow and held his limp, frozen body part ways in his arms, nearly shaking in indignation as he looked down at his face.

Even with the frost and frozen flakes on his face, Optimus still looked beautiful, but it was not an enjoyable sight to see him this way. Offline, frozen, limp and unmoving. His optics were clenched shut, probably frozen from the major impact of the storm, and his fists were still balled up.

Megatron stroked his face and pulled him closer, as if to protect, to endure, to devour in his arms and never let go. Nothing could remind him of the horrible concern and anger he felt right now. Not even times before...

Pulling Optimus close, Megatron stood up and silently sighed as he began walking back inside, the prime held protectively in his arms. A small relief filled Megatron’s spark by having the autobot now safely in his arms, but he wanted more.

Carrying Optimus into the prison, Megatron was content to see that most of the Inmates were already in their cells. Good. He didn't need anyone else getting in his way.

Luckily the prison was always hot inside, something to do with the ventilation system being broken and the constant steam that Inmates put off. Megatron could already see some of the ice beginning to melt off the prime, and that settled some more of his nerves.

Besides the guards giving him smirks or pesky glares, Megatron found himself making it through the prison rather smoothly. Occasionally he got an extra whistle or whisper from one of his followers, but he just ignored it all. Finally he found himself arriving at the washracks in less than a few minutes, but he was quickly blocked when he tried to go in.

"Whoa, you can't go in there," a young, particularly timid looking guard said, waving Megatron down, "This is a lock down."

Megatron glared at him, "I'm going to do my _work_ , autobot, now let me pass."

The little orange guard almost stuttered, eying the mech in the decepticon's servos. "Is that the little autobot blumpkin?" he asked, remembering something about him being Megatron’s personal Inmate.

" _Optimus Prime_ ," Megatron's hateful voice growled, "Now let me in." 

"Ok, ok..." The guard stepped aside, allowing Megatron entrance. When said frightening warlord walked by, the guard slumped against the wall and wiped his forehead... Well that was a close one.

Megatron was pleased to see that Optimus was starting to reboot, his body sluggishly moving around as his system onlined. He carried him over to one of the many walls in the empty wash room and carefully sat him down on his peds, holding him up as he reached over to turn the water on.

Optimus himself wasn't properly thinking straight yet, his processor aching like the ice had gotten inside his helm. He shivered. The cold was _everywhere_ , as well as the acid sting. It felt like the aftermaths of being brutally shocked or blasted, his gears tense and sore. He groaned.

Memory restoration started happening and Optimus began remembering the horrid storm that happened. The way it hit him so harshly, knocking him out and freezing his joints. Burning like fire. It was terrifying. So cold and yet so hot, the pain stretching all throughout his body.

And when hot water suddenly splashed his frame, Optimus gasped and jerked, optics opening in a flash. Strong servos held his arms to prevent him from falling or jerking away. He looked up, venting heavily when he met optics with dark red ones.

_Megatron...?_

"Be still," Megatron's gentle, rumbly voice demanded as he stared down at the confused prime, "Let the water warm you."

Optimus, panting slightly, looked around the empty wash room, wondering how he got here and why Megatron was here. How long had he been outside? Who rescued him? And why was he _here?_

"You are lucky that the acid rain was frozen when it hit you," Megatron's servo trailed down Optimus's right arm, helping to melt away a build up of ice, "Had it been liquefied, then your protoform would have been thoroughly destroyed."

Optimus, confused, cold and trembling, tried getting a hold of this. His overwhelmed processor trying to take everything in all at once. He looked up at the tall mech, very alarmed at the fact that they were alone where Megatron could do _whatever_ he wanted to with him.

Optimus tried opening his mouth to ask a question, for he had so many questions to ask, but closed it once he remembered the problem. Shamed and aggravated, he looked down and blinked.

Megatron noticed this and immediately felt a touch of worry. Leaning forward, he reached out to cup Optimus's chin, tilting his head up. "What happened?" he asked like he _knew_ something bad had happened.

And he was ready to make somebody pay.

Optimus felt the hot water washing away his freezing stiffness, but it did little to help his scattered emotions as he felt Megatron’s dangerous presence so close to his own. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't say anything, but he _needed_ to tell Megatron.

Humiliated, Optimus looked at Megatron as he reached up and gestured to his mouth.

Megatron was unsure what the prime was pointing at, but he had a _feeling_... "Did someone hurt you?" he asked, removing his servo from the bot's chin to cup his face.

Optimus shifted and nodded his head before parting his lips slightly and pointing up towards the roof of his mouth.

Megatron’s optics widened as he could barely see the black disk hanging down inside the poor autobot’s mouth. "An inhibitor spike?" he vented, terribly confused as to why _Optimus_ , of all bots' in the world, would get such a cruel punishment.

"Why?" Megatron looked at Optimus who lowered his servos and turned his helm away. Obviously, he wasn't the cause of this.

Posture relaxing, Megatron calmly used his other servo to cup Optimus's cheeks, gently, bringing his shameful blue optics back forward. "I can remove it for you," he said in a soothing voice, seeing those blue optics widen, "If you will let me."

Optimus was afraid that Megatron would turn at any moment and hurt him, and the offer only added more test to his trust. All it would take was _one_ wrong move and that device would kill him. One move, and he would be dead. Optimus wasn't sure if he really wanted to put his life in Megatron’s servos so willingly.

But... He had to think: Megatron did just rescue him from a deadly acid storm. Had he been left out there long enough that the sun melted all the ice, the acid would have eaten through his protoform and killed him. So...

Optimus nodded.

Megatron’s optics gleamed as he moved even closer to the autobot, admiring the closeup of his wet body and gorgeously trembling display. Reaching out and lifting his chin straight, Megatron mumbled softly, "I want you to look at me and relax."

Optimus did. His shuttering blue optics staring at Megatron’s enhanced, focused red ones. He tried loosening his shoulders, thinking about the wonderfully warm water beating down on them and how it washed away the sting.

Megatron brought his other digit up to Optimus's parted lips and slowly, in the least forceful way, pushed it inside. The warmth and enticingly slick wetness of the autobot’s mouth went ignored as Megatron carefully brushed the underside of the inhibitor spike.

Optimus was trying to stay as calm as possible, but he really felt like freaking out, expecting pain or force or even death. Megatron’s digit in his mouth was _all_ kinds of crazy to him, and he worried about slipping. But one thing that did occur to him that he thought was strange was that Megatron was being _gentle_. Unlike the guards...

As that digit moved in a little further, Optimus looked down at Megatron’s chest, trying to distract himself and keep from struggling. He watched as the hot water streamed down the Warlords strong frame, dissappearing into seams and dripping off edges. Clean and sparkly.

Megatron pretended not to notice the prime staring further down at his body as he found what he was looking for. The trigger mechanism. He busted it immediately with so little force, he could only feel disappointed in whoever created these witless devices.

Optimus's optics fluttered in pain and relief when he felt the spikes extract from the roof of his mouth and Megatron’s servo retreated along with the broken inhibitor spike.

"Your mainstream line will have to be reattached, but I believe you would rather I leave that part to you," Megatron' informed while looking down at the little disk.

"Thank you," Optimus said, truly appreciative of the mech being so gentle and skillful with his servos. He felt _much_ better now that that dreadful device was removed and he no longer had to worry about his brains going everywhere.

"Your gratitude is accepted, but what I really want to hear about is _why_ you had this horrid contraption in the first place?" Megatron twirled the disk around and gave Optimus a suspicious glance.

Optimus was hesitant to answer only because he didn't want Megatron to get mad and hurt him by thinking he was blaming him or something. Perhaps he should make up a lie? Blab, say nonsense, pretend he _wanted_ the inhibitor spike. Or _something!_

"The guards are punishing me because they believe that I had injured Deathsaurus and caused all the commotion here recently," Optimus said softly, looking away from Megatron’s lingering gaze.

"So they are blaming you for my own actions," Megatron stated and shattered the little disk with just one flex of his fist.

It made Optimus tense, now expecting Megatron to do something cruel and unforgivable to him. He tried to keep his optics averted so that he wouldn't have to see himself bleed. Just enlighten the experience.

"I will speak with the guards and explain to them that their predicaments are, once again, wrong," Megatron used his digits to brush the crushed remains of the inhibitor spike out of his servo before digging into his subspace, "In the meantime, I want you to wash yourself."

When that little white rag was lifted out for him, Optimus blinked and looked up at the Warlord, baffled. He had expected torture or hateful comments, but Megatron just kept surprising him.

"The acid has no doubt reached your protoform figure," Megatron looked down at the prime's body, so relieved that he could fall back, "My greatest advice would be to wash it all away before the substance travels any further."

Optimus stared at the Warlord as he went to take the cloth, but as soon as his servo landed on it, Megatron's own servo curled around his. He almost gasped, bracing for pain but feeling nothing other than a small, almost unnoticeable squeeze on his servo, and he was looking back up.

"And perhaps... I could help you," Megatron stepped closer, keeping Optimus's servo held captive in the security of his own while pushing their bodies together. He cupped his face with his free servo and leaned in to place a small kiss right beneath his optic. "That is..." He vented, moving back slightly so that Optimus knew that he had a choice, "If you will allow me."

Optimus was shattering into two separate pools of thought. One where the scenario was that Megatron _would_ hurt him. And the other where Megatron was true to his actions and words and he _wanted_ this.

Feeling the lingering wonder of just that one small, little kiss against his cheek move through his body and down to his spark was unlike anything Optimus had ever felt before. The sensations new but undeniably desired.

"I... I would like that," Optimus said and gave Megatron’s servo a small squeeze, giving into his ministrations.

Megatron hid his shock by the outwardness and pressed another kiss lower down the prime's soft cheek before switching to the injured one. Separating their servos so that he could freely move about and explore, he traced one of the scars with his lips, gently and, in a way, _admiringly_.

Optimus shifted as he closed his optics and moved his servos up to grip Megatron’s shoulders, his tank filling up with machnical butterflies as those plump lips softly kissed each one of the sensitive scars on his cheek. Those big, dangerous servos moving across his armor and scrubbing away the rest of the burning sensation.

"I want you to allow your armor to shift," Megatron whispered against the side of Optimus's audio, "Give me access to your protoform."

It wasn't a demand so much as it was another personal proposition, and Optimus really had no problem with it, leaning back against the wall as he let his armor shift apart some. Allowing the seams to spread so that Megatron’s big servos had better access.

Protoforms were one of the most sensitive, vulnerable, important parts of a mechs body. They were meek, easily injured and broken. To allow someone, as Optimus was allowing Megatron right now, to touch that area was a true sign of acceptance.

Or in a better understanding... Trust.

Megatron’s servos moved around his body, mostly in the upper regions, rubbing in between the gaps of his armor and scrubbing away any left over acid stinging. The hot water trickled freely down his frame, feeling oh so nice and comforting, adding a shine to everything that was happening. Servos that were dark and monstrous took their time in gently moving across or between the armor they were currently working on.

And Optimus cursed himself for allowing this, for _liking_ it. He shouldn't have trusted a single thing the Warlord said to him, pushed him away and demanded redemption along with personal space. But Megatron hadn't done anything but exactly what he had said, and was now taking care of him in this undeniably passionate way that Optimus couldn't help but crave with intense desire.

Because screw it! He had been here against his will for days now, getting treated poorly, molested, starved and smacked around. Physically and emotionally abused. Called names and punished for stuff he didn't do. And Megatron- _freakin' Megatron_ \- was the only one in this whole stinkin institute that was willing to give him acceptance and comfort, and by Primus, he wanted to take whatever he could.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Ten- is here!
> 
> Warning- reread the tags if you've forgotten what kind of content is in this story. I'm sorry to say that this chapter gets iffy, so beware. Also, to be fair, I made a jerk out of some of my most favorite decepticons so... Blitzwing I'm sorry! 
> 
> Sit back, read, enjoy, like, comment, fall asleep or do whatever floats your boat!

"Megatron?" Optimus whispered, his optics closed as the delicacy of those gentle lips and servos kept exploring him.

"Yes, Optimus Prime?" Megatron vented and mouthed at the prime's jaw line, his servos going from rubbing to faint gripping.

Optimus swallowed down the agitation that had remained in his throat although he felt none in his spark. "I've been meaning to ask," he opened his optics and looked at the Warlord, his body stilling as he asked, "What is this?"

Megatron stopped with a light suckle sound against Optimus's heated armor, his servos coming to a halt as he internally sighed. He knew that this question would have been asked sooner or later, but he wasn't fully prepared and that's what bothered him.

"We are pretending," he lifted his helm and casted his optics off to the side, "There is nothing else to it."

Optimus could detect the strange drop of the Warlord's voice at the end, and he didn't let the unsaid words slip by his processor. "Risking your life to protect mine is not _pretending_ ," Optimus saw what looked to be a hint of fury, indulgence and maybe even annoyance in the big mech's optics, "I saw it, I remember it. No one had been around when the acid storm hit, and it was still in range when you saved me."

"Protection is one of the many illusions that conquer a bonding ritual, and this works to persuade others into believing that that is what we are doing," Megatron didn't want to talk about this right now, "I risked my life for you merely because I wanted the influence of our "bonding ritual" to broaden."

Optimus gave the Warlord a look that was far from believing and far from defeated. "I have also noticed that your affection towards me becomes more devoted when we are alone. And in a way... So does mine."

Megatron’s expression seemed to do a one-eighty. His optics widening and his shoulders giving off the most unnoticeable twitch as he gazed back down into sky blue optics. Optics that reminded him of both freedom and loss.

"Your observations are correct, Optimus Prime, I do have affections for you," After so long of the words sitting on his glossa, Megatron found himself completely empty once they were out there, but like a rope, the words were all connected so the rest had to come out, "And I may have used the method of pretending as a way to indulge myself. I had never meant to harm you."

"You never did," Optimus's optic ridges rose inwardly and he smiled, reaching down to grasp the mech's servo, "I too confess that I had not fully trusted you in the beginning, but deep down just like inside of every decepticon, I believed that you were capable of change, and I gave you a chance... I am proud to say that I am not disappointed so far."

Megatron almost melted at the sight of the prime's smile. It was beautiful, like the allspark, like the sky, like the view from the very tops of Kaon itself. And it made his spark feel very tingly on the inside. But there was the guilt lurking inside as well, and that guilt is what truly kept him from telling the truth, from expressing himself or embracing the mech before him.

"Optimus," Megatron's mouth felt dry, and his spark beat was faster than he'd like, but this was something that needed to be settled, "There is something I want you to understand: if we do start the process of bonding, I want you to remember that I will never change. I stand for the decepticon cause and only the decepticon cause, and even for you, that will not change."

There was a silence. A silence that was so silent that even the walls seemed to talk. Two sets of optics stared at each other in the silence and the stillness.

"I will understand only if you do as well, Megatron," Optimus said, his servo never once leaving the one it was holding, "I will not change either, not when it comes down to protecting Cybertron and its people."

"And if we must fight?" Megatron asked the question that neither of them wanted to think about.

Optimus did pause, the answer feeling heavier than a wrecking ball in his chest, but it soon settled and he shook his helm softly, "Then we will fight. And whoever wins... then they will have the honor of deciding what the other's fate will be."

"I won't hesitate to kill you should you get in my way," Megatron was now testing the prime.

Optimus could tell, and he loosened his shoulders, giving off a sad indication of his past, "I have been killed several times now, and each time has been less painful than the last. I know this diversion won't stay with me forever, for true potential can never last, but it can guide me through the times that are the hardest."

Damn, Optimus Prime was spunky.

It gave Megatron mechanical thrills and goosies. He let his own smile show, the corners of his mouth pulling upward as he leaned down and mumbled, "It's a deal then."

Both of them knew that this was a bad idea, but for everything that they had been through, for every moment they had spent with each other in these last few days, it just seemed to all break away in that one moment. Even if there were doubts and questions and concerns, it didn't matter in that moment.

Optimus Prime was still afraid of Megatron and his intentions, but by everything that had happened recently, he thought that maybe there was something besides the predicted bitterness and cruelty that was said to be Megatron.

And Megatron... Megatron was guilty. That's all he could think about. Optimus didn't need to be here and he felt guilty because of that, because he actually did care about him.

* * *

 

 

The next morning came and went as it usually did. Optimus had woken up and went to work, and was now on his way to mess hall duty. Megatron had told him that he would meet him there that morning.

But Optimus never got a chance to make it in time.

"Get him!"

Optimus barely had time to turn around when somebody punched him on the back of the helm. He grunted, his sight going white as the electric pain traveled all throughout his helm. He hunched over, shouting out when he was viciously kneed in the tank, falling to his knees.

"Jou puny thing, jou break so eazily," said a German accent from up above.

Optimus held his tank as he huffed continously, looking up at the purple and white decepticon and sputtering, "W-what are you... doing?"

Blitzwing raised his digit in the air and said calmly, "Zat is a good question: Vhat am I doing?" All the sudden his face spun to a less comforting personality, "I'm about to be pinched off by your glory hole!"

"Hey, shut it, Blitzbrain, before you're the one who's doing the pinching," Ramjet hit the triple changer over the head and shushed him.

Hothead switched to gear and pushed the seeker back with enough force to make him fall, "Jou son ov a-"

" _Zzzip it_ , bolts for brains," Ramjet hissed, grabbing his own helm and gesturing to the autobot, "You're gonna get us caught. Now help me get em' in here, will ya?"

As Optimus stood up, somebody else hit him in the back of the helm, and this time, he face planted. His olfactory sensor hit the ground and split, his head colliding along with it. Everything blacked out with static and white as intense pain racked his systems. He groaned, feeling the faintest touch of arms looping underneath his own and dragging him.

"That's it, boys, bring him in here," Helex said approvingly, his servos flat against each other as he sat with his legs crossed, "Nice job."

"I think he's unconscious," Tesarus admitted while helping to bring the limp prime forward.

Helex shook his helm, "Nah, he's awake alright. I can tell." He looked at his company and smirked, "Hey Rams, why don't you go ahead and close that door, hmm? Wouldn't want any _pet owners_ to see this, now would we?"

As Ramjet obliged and turned to close and lock the door, Blitzwing held the autobot up on his knees and poked at him, "He sure iz ugly. Look at hiz scar; it iz very unzettling in my opinion..."

"That's because he likes it rough, Blitzy," Helex assured from his throne as he curled his digits and smiled deviously, "Now... Bring him to me."

Tesarus and Blitzwing both grabbed Optimus by the arms and scooted him forward until he was directly in front of Helex's spread legs.

Optimus groaned, his feild of vision returning as well as his frontal networking. He shuttered his optics and blinked to rid the static before he was able to wrench his head back. The pain hard and causing him to grimace.

He didn't know what was going on, but something about seeing Helex sitting on top of a literal waste bin made Optimus's energon run cold.

This wasn't just any waste room. This was a room where mech's go to excrete oil or old transmission fluid. A private place where they could sit and angle themselves in whatever way they needed to in order of properly disposing their... Wastes.

Looks like it was being used for another purpose.

"Helex," Optimus grunted, trying to stand up but rough servos grabbed his arms and pinned them behind his back, very uncomfortably. He squirmed, "What is the meaning of this?"

"What is the meaning of this?" Helex repeated the question with a sarcastic laugh, lifting his servos up and looking at his gang, "Well, what do _you_ think it is, sweetspark?"

Optimus frowned at the nickname and grit his denta, "Release me."

"Mm, sorry sweetspark, we can't do that," Helex said in a mockery of shame before his face enlightened and he grinned, "You see, we've come here to celebrate!"

"Celebrate what?" Optimus demanded roughly, testing their hold and struggling to get free, "I am not a prize, now release me."

"Oh, we aren't necessarily celebrating you, Optimus Prime, but rather..." Helex leaned down and gave the prime a none too encouraging look, "The purpose of your name."

At first the answer confused Optimus until he thought.... And froze, his optics becoming impossibly wide. "No..." He grunted and said furiously, "No. You cannot do that to me. Release me."

"Not until we're all satisfied," Helex reached out and poked Optimus on the cheek where his scratches were, " _Blumpkin_."

Optimus struggled in both anger and horror, "Helex, do not do this, you are better than this. The guards want you to do these things to prove that decepticons are bad, and you are fueling their desires by creating these conflicts. Do not do it."

"Oh really? Fueling their desires, huh?" Helex crossed all of his arms and leaned back, "Sad news, blumpkin: I don't fuel anyone else's desires but my own. And right now, I'm gonna start with your pretty little mouth... Boys."

Optimus nearly gasped when he was pushed forward, rough, cruel servos shoving him in between the decepticon's knees and holding his helm down. "Helex, please, do not do this," he begged, the sight of the con's spike housing opening causing him to internally freak, "You don't have to do this, you don't have to be the type of mech they say you are. You have a chance to prove them wrong, to prove _me_ wrong. Please... take it."

Helex looked down at him, face blank and lost of expression. His mouth a thin line. Like he was actually thinking about what the prime had said.

"Oh, I will," Helex nodded and grabbed Optimus by the back of the helm, "Your mouth; that's what I'll take."

"Yeah, now you're talking, Helex," Tesarus cheered.

"Make him suck you dry," Ramjet licked his lips.

"Pop hiz opticz out!" Random Blitzwing giggled.

Optimus thrashed but it was useless. He tried holding his helm back as far away from the large spike as much as he could, but the grip on his helm was too strong. He shook until he couldn't take it anymore.

"Please... Don't," Optimus was left with no choice.

When his lips were forced down around the head of the spike, Optimus activated his mask and braced himself for the screaming.

When the mask clamped down around his spike, Helex yelled loudly and shot up to his peds. Everyone else broke out into a mess of crazy comments and questions, trying to hold onto the prime while also trying to see what was going on.

"Get it off, get it off!" Helex shouted, pushing against the prime's helm as he continued to howl in pain, the force around his spike feeling as if the appendage was about to be snapped in half, "Get. It. _Off!"_

"Holy Primus," Ramjet yelled.

"Hold ztill jou moron," Blitzwing tried grabbing the prime.

Tesarus went and held Helex still while getting ready to kick the prime's face away. "You sick bastard, let go!"

Just as Optimus saw it coming, he deactivated his mask and ducked away just in time for Tesarus's ped to meet hard with Blitzwing's face. Energon spewed everywhere and he stood up immediately, kicking Ramjet to the side and punching him in the face.

Ramjet shouted and screamed, "You bastard, get off me!"

Optimus punched him across the cheek and hurtled him against the wall, slamming his ped across his cockpit and shattering the glass.

"Hey!" Tesarus let go of Helex and marched over to the prime, grabbing him by the neck and yanking him back, "Nice move, blumpkin, but you're going to regret it."

"Ugh," Optimus grunted and reached back to pry those large fingers away, "My name... is Optimus Prime!"

Tesarus gasped when Optimus pulled him close and jumped, sending both their bodies into the floor, Optimus's body colliding with his own and sharply breaking his armor. Tesarus yelled in pain and tried punching at the prime, but he was overcome by a hit to the helm as Optimus scrambled to get up.

Making a beeline for the door, Optimus jumped over to it, tumbling and pulling on the handle. His body dizzy. Seeing how it was locked, he pounded on the door and shouted for help, screaming begging and almost crying.

Behind him Helex sat back down, Tesarus stood back up, Ramjet helped Blitzwing up and they all turned their helms to look at him.

And when Optimus saw that it was too late, he stood back and tried kicking the door down, huffing and stumbling, but it never worked. He begged until his palms bled from the over abuse, and large servos grabbed him from behind, pulling him back into the gang.

"Oh, Optimus," Helex wiped his lips and sighed in disappointment, "I just wanted to try out your name. Now look what you've done... The boys aren't too happy, now are they? And who do you thinks' gonna make up for what you just did? Well... It's certainly not gonna be the guards."

Optimus wasn't prone to it, but after the first hit, he started screaming.

There comes a time in every person's life when they just can't take it anymore. The savage beast is let loose and all that's left is finding a way to try and contain it. Or better... Have someone contain it for them.

* * *

 

 

Megatron waited by the doors that led to the courtyard, his patience running thin as concern filled in all the left over spaces. Optimus was never late when it came to strictly moving on to his next duty, and it's not like the guards around here were apt to let him relax anytime soon.

"And so I hit him, thought I killed him, but he was just in stasis," Whirl blabbed on about his random stories, entertaining himself until Optimus came around so that he could give him a playful hug and tell him about his new date, "At least I beat him though. Sucker never saw me comin'."

"Where is he?" Megatron mumbled to himself, optics never once leaving the secondary doors that led from the mess room hallway.

Whirl noticed his concern and shrugged, "He probably just stopped for an energon cube, or maybe even for a good game of Cybertronian roulette!"

"Maybe..." Megatron made a face and turned around, getting ready to walk out the door when he thought... It's not time for the wreck-room to be full, so what was all that _noise_ coming from?

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 11-AWOOO!
> 
> NOTE: Semi_Weird_Shipper wrote this chapter for me since I'm currently very sick, so please give her credit. She's an ideal writer and I love her unique works. I'm actually kind of excited that she wrote this chapter for me.
> 
> Thanks Weirdo! 
> 
> Everyone else... Sit back, read, enjoy, like, comment, fall asleep or do whatever floats your boat!

Optimus's system seemed to be screaming at him, his processor flickering with warnings, reboots and calculations. It was horribly confusing, making a migraine sprout out in the back of his helm. He wanted to reach up and rub it, but even his fingers felt infinitely sore at the knuckles, and his brain struggled to register where all the pain was coming from.

A weak body diagnostic told him that _everything_ was hurting, but nothing was entirely damaged.

Optics struggling to fully online, Optimus grunted as he saw nothing but searing white light that instantly blinded him. His optic ridges furrowed and he turned his helm, suppressing any aches in order of avoiding that uncomfortable brightness.

"Welcome to the Allspark... Old friend," said a voice that made Optimus's spark melt.

There was the smallest sound of a flicker and the light was gone. Optimus found himself wincing as he opened his optics, neck creaking as he turned his helm in order of spotting the source of the voice he heard. His chassis felt like he were buried underneath a heavy pile of rocks, but yet his spark pulsed in eager, cascading joy when he saw him.

"Ratchet..."

The mech gave him a half hearted smile, his optics obviously giving off the hints of concern, remorse and sorrow. "You look awful," he said with a flat shrug.

"How... Why?" Optimus shook his helm in mild confusion, his throat feeling so stiff and sore. He wanted to move but paused when the friendly medic rose his servo in the air, clearly silencing him.

"My shift allows me to rotate from medical fields to Academy Centers, and occasionally... Prisons," Ratchet stood up and grabbed a nearby data pad off the desk, "You're lucky that I had barely finished my daily rations when you decided to so graciously add to my work pile."

Optimus wasn't sure if he was listening or not. He was so happy to see a friendly face, so happy to have somebody near that he loved and trusted and knew wouldn't hurt him. He wanted to sit up and hug Ratchet, hug him and shrink into him like a sparkling who was trying to hide away from all the bad things this cruel world bared upon him.

Ratchet must have noticed his content and despair, for before he started ranting, he sighed softly and sat back down, setting the data pad aside as he lowered his helm. "Optimus... I understand that you have been going through a significant amount of stress lately, and I know that you must have questions and concerns that you desire talking about, especially now that I'm here, and I hate to spoil that time for you, but Optimus there is something we must discuss," Ratchet lifted his helm, giving his friend a somewhat disappointing frown.

It made Optimus hate this place more than he already did. Memory of his actions and what he previously went through played in his brain, and he could only imagine what things needed to be _discussed_.

Ratchet sat up straighter and looked the prime in the optic once he knew he was listening, "Do you recall a mech named Tesarus?"

Optimus nodded, breathing out, "He is one of the decepticons who recently assaulted me."

"Well..." Ratchet's face turned flat as he said bluntly, "He's dead."

" _What?_ " Optimus's optics filled with immediate confusion and even concern, "How?"

"That is what I would like to ask you, Optimus," Ratchet tilted his helm and squinted his optics, "You see, the warden is blaming you for his death, and although I can repair him-the diagnostic for the restoration process is simple- they are sending you out for another testimony. However, there is one mech currently in your defense."

Optimus didn't say anything. He could feel the name sitting on his glossa, ready to slide out but he just couldn't afford to let it.

"Megatron," Ratchet said it after a long pause, "He claims that you had wounded Tesarus in self defense, as well as Blitzwing, Helex and Ramjet- who are all currently suffering severe wounds all throughout their circuitry systems and are on the brink of malfunctioning, in case there was any question there- but he also claimed that you were unconscious when he encountered the... Commotion."

Ratchet instantly knew that Optimus realized what exactly was going on, for the widening of his optics gave it all away. He stood up and stepped closer to the medical berth, looking down at the prime and reaching out to cup his servo.

"Optimus, you know I will do everything in my power to help save you from more time in this twisted space hole, but I _need_ you to tell me what exactly happened back there," Ratchet squeezed his servo, feeling a drought in his spark when he noticed that it was cold and lightly trembling.

Optimus didn't want to tell Ratchet, he didn't want him to have to worry anymore than what he already was. But another part of him _wanted_ to tell him so that way it would be off his shoulders. It was humiliating and disgusting; the things he was going through, but it would be even worse if he had more time added to his sentence all because of another misunderstanding.

"Ratchet," Optimus swallowed thickly, his throat still feeling sore as he felt nervousness prick at his armor, "By now, I'm sure that you must know what experiences I've had to go through since I've been here..."

Ratchet nodded. He had seen plenty of mechs who walked out of this place, and none of them were very bright. Plus he's worked on some of the ones who've gotten wounded here, so he had ideas.

"Helex and Tesarus were but two of many who had tried assaulting me when I had first arrived here at Grindcore," Optimus blinked and turned his helm to the ceiling, now realizing just how much pain he was truly in.

"By _assault_ do you mean domestic violence?" Ratchet asked, and Optimus could hear the straining hopefulness inside his voice.

But he couldn't lie. "Not... exactly." 

"Rape?" Ratchet said in a disbelieving, angry voice, "They tried raping you? Optimus, why did you not report this?"

"I did... But the guards were not on as exact terms as I was," Optimus admitted, looking back at the medic, "Instead they encourage the notion that all decepticons are free to do whatever phases them, and I have been targeted by several of them."

Even though Ratchet was furious and on the verge of choking somebody until their neck snapped in half, he remained calm and asked, "Was this last assault similar for the same purposes?"

Optimus nodded, "Yes, but I do not remember harming any of them with the extended amount of damage you confirm they have."

"Do you remember how you went offline?" Although Ratchet was about to knock some bolts out of somebody, he needed to get this straight.

Optimus looked back up at the ceiling as he remembered what all had happened. "I was trying to escape the room when they had pulled me back and... Began beating me... That is all I remember."

"And what about Megatron?"

Optimus's spark clenched at the name and he closed his optics. He knew he couldn't completely tell Ratchet what was going on, but he had little to no other choices. "He must have... protected me."

" _Protected_ you?" Ratchet made a scrunched up face like what Optimus said was absolutely ridiculous, "What do you mean he  _protected_ you?"

"It is difficult to explain," Optimus almost sounded aggravated, not wanting to say anything further, "but I believe that is what happened if you say that Tesarus is offline and all the others are on the verge of malfunctioning."

Ratchet wanted to keep asking about it, but the look on his friend's face said in itself that he did not wish to talk about it anymore. Instead of pressuring him further, he stood up and started walking for a cabinet on the other side of the room.

"I will notify the warden and have him speak with Megatron to testify his actions," He grabbed a high grade energon cube and headed back for his friend, "In the meantime, drink up. I want that processor all cleared when I explain what diagnostics I had to run in order of fully bringing you back online."

Optimus felt as Ratchet slipped his servos behind his back to help him sit up, and with a small grunt and a few painful trembles, he was up straight, leaning back against the soft pillow of the medical berth. He took the energon with a small thanks and took a drink, his thoughts wandering off to Megatron.

Had Megatron really done all that damage? Was Optimus's predictions correct? Had Megatron really gone that bazerk when he found out what had happened to him and tried killing Tesarus?

Optics closing, Optimus felt his spark trying to pull apart in his chest. Utterly torn he was. To think that Megatron was his hero while at the same time he was a monster. But he was protecting him. And Optimus did not yet know the full extent of his injuries, but when Ratchet explained it to him, everything went black.

Six days Optimus Prime had been offline. Not only did he have to have his left arm replaced, but part of his back chamber as well. His olfactory sensor had to be manually snapped back in place and welded shut. His lips were repaired from the multiple slpits in them (confirmed by multiple hits and mechanical abuse), as well as any other busted parts of his face.

On the good side, Ratchet confirmed that he was able to buff everything out and had even given Optimus a new paint job. There were no signs of rape so that was good. His scratches were gone along with any other signs of abuse. But he would still be sensitive for a while, his new arm and welding mends taking their time to heal.

By the time the explanation was over, Optimus had thanked Ratchet for his strong efforts in helping him, his energon cube finished as he sat it to the side and looked away.

Ratchet could see the worn out, deflated look in the prime's optics and felt himself wilt at the sight. "Optimus," he sighed, "I know that you do not belong here, and I cannot explain to you how badly the sorrow seeps in that I am not able to help you, but I want you to remember something for me."

Ratchet kneeled down slightly, taking Optimus's servo back into his own and holding it like a precious jewel. "Never forget yourself, Optimus Prime," he said, "Mech here, they tend to forget themselves and that what mattered in the first place can become easily corroded by whatever is going on around them. And it sticks with them tight; to the point that there is no change... Don't let that happen to yourself Optimus."

"I had not intended to let it happen in the first place," Optimus smiled, gripping Ratchet's servo back and wishing for it to never leave.

"I promise me and the others will try to get ya out of here," Ratchet reached out and poked Optimus on the forehead, "And I can tell that all this stress is getting to you, and you haven't even been here that long."

Optimus wanted to say that part of his off attitude was because he was trying to hide his worries and concerns, trying to cover up the possibilities that Megatron might be charged with yet another murder for protecting him. And the fact alone that Megatron was protecting him because he _liked_ him and didn't think he belonged here was a ten mile long question list by itself, and Optimus desperately wanted to avoid it.

"Bumblebee misses you," Ratchet said with a grin, "Little fella won't stop jumpin' to see you."

Optimus smiled, his spark warming at the thought of his friends, "I miss him too. Is he well?"

"By well, do you mean is he doing a good job tearing up all my supplies? Because yup, he's doing really well in that situation," Ratchet pursed his lips and nodded.

Optimus chuckled softly as he looked back up at the ceiling and whispered to his lonely spark, "I miss them so much."

"Well, they'll all be there for you," Ratchet squeezed his servo, "Just remember that and you might just make it through this space hole... Now, I have to go."

Optimus felt his spark crumble and he struggled not to frown. "Must you?" he couldn't help but ask, his voice strained as he tightened his hold on the other mech's servo.

"I have to speak with the warden and file my reports," Ratchet patted his servo and assured, "I will be back sometime tomorrow to check up on you. In the meantime, rest. You need it."

Optimus really, really did not want Ratchet to go. He wanted him to stay and keep him company, to hold his servo and rant on about all the good things in life. He wanted him to distract all the bad things stewing inside his brain, remind him that it's okay and that he was safe.

But sadly, Optimus had to watch him go, agreeing to rest as much as he could before the big announcement tomorrow. When the medic left, Optimus closed his optics tightly as loneliness and emotional spheres settled in through his spark. Everything started to become too much; the drama, the assault, the commotion and lack of friends.

Optimus wished he had someone to keep him company.

"Hey, Oppy!"

Optimus nearly jumped when the curtain to his personal medical chamber was pulled back revealing a skinny, blue figure before him. Unaware he was holding his spark chamber, Optimus breathed out heavily as both annoyance and relief settled in.

"Glad Ratch the wise bolt is gone, now I can finally tell you about my new date!" Whirl's optic could not look happier as he dragged himself over to the medical berth and plopped down.

Optimus wanted to protest for more space, but he should know by now how Whirl was. Besides, there didn't seem to be anything other than absolute joy in his field as he put an arm around him and clapped his claws together.

"Why are you here?" Optimus asked, a faint hint of concern in his voice for he had seen the blue mech _limping_ over to the berth.

"I'm always in here. Same reason as always; some scrap heap picked a fight with the wrong aft kicking copter," he pointed to himself, arrogant and confident as he nodded pridefully, "Cyclonus is here too! He always sticks up for me when I don't need his help the most, but hey, what are friends for? We're always losing bolts for each other!"

"That's...." Confusing as slag, but Optimus didn't think negative about it, instead smiling and saying, "That's nice."

"Yup," Whirl lifted his helm like he hadn't a care in the world, "Cyclonus' new conjunx is actually the little guy who introduced me to my new date."

Optimus watched as Whirl sighed to himself, looking up as if he were visualizing the love of his life right before him. "I've never been able to make someone blush more in my entire life than I did with that little cutie."

"What's his name?" Optimus asked, actually happy to engage in a friendly conversation. Besides, he was phased that the decepticon had interests in an autobot.

" _Swerve_ ," Whirl said the name like it tasted like high grade, "Met him last week. Cutie blushed so hard I thought he was going to overheat."

"You... You are aloud visitations?" Optimus asked, his spark singing out in hope and anticipation.

"Not unless you have a conjunx or somebody closely related," Whirl confirmed, "I wasn't even suppose to be there, no matter how much my fans miss me, but Cyclonus was able to sweet talk the guards into taking a friend with him since Tailgate brought Swerve with him. And I was more than willing to go and make some minibot blushes!"

"Tailgate, I assume, is Cyclonus' conjunx?" Optimus wondered, thinking about who he could request a visitation from.

"Mhm, but don't even think about mentioning him 'round horns over there," Whirl leaned in and whispered, "He gets really emotional when you say his name- like femme emotional."

"Why, if I may ask?" Optimus looked up at Whirl and felt a cold feeling running through his spark.

"Because he screwed up. We all did," Whirl shrugged and looked down, "Like me, he just wanted a chance to prove himself, prove that we were perfectly capable of kicking any bots aft out there if they decided to threaten us, but he... He let Tailgate get in the way. Once Tailgate's life was threatened, he went on a practical sword-through-spark killing spree, stabbing anyone who put a servo on his beloved."

Optimus didn't want to push too far into personal boundaries, but he was curious, "Is that why Cyclonus is here?"

"I like you; you keep asking questions with the answer _yes_." Whirl gave Optimus a playful tug and represented a smile with his yellow optic, "Too bad you're Megatron’s conjunx, or I'd be saying _yes_ to you asking me out in a blink of an eye!"

Optimus gave the copter a look and felt himself blush slightly, "You would- you have feelings for me? A-and a _conjunx_ \- Megatron and me?"

"Yes, yes and yes," Whirl tapped his claws cheerfully, "You're like a walking miracle; why do you think you're constantly being harassed? And why do you think your Mega-hunnys always sticking up for you? You're his conjunx!- which by the way, I'm so jealous about."

"But.... Swerve..." Optimus felt his shoulders tense, feeling bad for the bot if Whirl still had feelings for him.

"What? I love Swerve!" Whirl said both happily and assuredly, more than positive, "Just like before him I fell in love with you, and before you I fell in love with Megatron, and before Megatron I fell in love with Cyclonus, and before Cyclonus I fell in love with~"

" _Whirl_..." Optimus drew his name out, thinking that he would never stop talking.

"What?" Whirl asked innocently, his optic widening as he admitted, "It's true!"

Optimus wanted to roll his optics, but he refrained. Looking around the room, he couldn't help the growing urge to ask, "Is there any chance I could get visitations?"

"You have a conjunx?" Optimus shook his helm, "Relative?" Another shake. Whirl made a wilt face and then paused, claws up to his optic as he stayed still, thinking.

"I'm not gonna swear anything, but I bet Cyclonus would take you to visit Tailgate if the mech you wanna see is friends with him," He said rather excitedly, "We could all go together. It'd be a poly-date!"

Optimus couldn't help but to warm at the idea, and he secretly hoped that Bumblebee was a friend of this Tailgate. Surely Arcee was. "Thank you," he looked at Whirl, giving him a truly appreciative smile.

"No problem," Whirl winced when he heard the door at the end of the medical bay slam open, "Welp', that's my cue. I'll have to catch up with ya later, Oppy. Mmmwaahhh!"

Whirl leaned in and gave Optimus a big mock kiss on his cheek with the underside of his optic before standing up and quickly scurrying away.

It left Optimus dazed and embarrassed, and he reached up and softly held his cheek, looking at the area the con was just sitting in. He didn't take it to any offense, but he was shocked.

Were decepticons really that bad? Were they like how everyone said they were? Ruthless, mean, demanding and cold?

Optimus didn't think so, and his conversation with Whirl stirred inside his processor.


End file.
